‘For me or him?’ William asked sarcastically.
Sarah laughed and took a drink of her frothy latte. ‘He can really hold a grudge you know,’ she said. ‘When he doesn’t like someone they’ll sure as hell know about it.’
‘He’ll get used to me.’
They were sat at a table in the near empty Greenfly. William had a double espresso, black with sugar. The caffeine injection helped him stay alert.
Unable to switch off from the job for too long, Sarah pulled out a large fat manila envelope and poured the contents onto the table. ‘The copies of the passport scans from Paris airport,’ she stated.
‘Who’s the lone drinker?’ William asked looking over his shoulder.
Sarah followed his gaze. By a window in the corner of the room a man with yellowy-white hair sat reading a pile of newspapers. Reading glasses were perched on his nose, he looked like he was in his seventies, there was an orange bow-tie around his neck and he wore a tweed blazer. Occasionally he sipped from a glass of whisky that was by his side.
‘That’s Sir Robert Mansfield, OBE,’ Sarah said. ‘Retired now. Spent most of his working life in these offices and, it seems, intends to spend his retirement here too. Treats the place like a private club, no one really minds though. He has some stories to tell, buy him a shot of whisky and I’m sure he’ll tell you some of them.’
William regarded the man, he looked frail and unsteady. He may have been battered by the years, but he refused to be beaten by them. William wondered if he would one day end up like that. Alone, unimportant and unwilling to leave the past behind.
Turning his attention to the photos, he picked up a handful and flicked through them one by one. The faces of strangers, how different they all looked, he thought. Yet, he believed, fundamentally everyone, regardless of religion or race, were much the same. They desired the same things, they had the same basic fears. The same weaknesses. Everyone was exploitable at some level. Everyone had their price.
When Sarah took a sip of her latte some froth stuck to the end of her small nose. William noted her pleasant and youthful face. Freckles surrounded her button nose. Her auburn hair was cut short in a bob. Plain, but not unattractive, she was undoubtedly very bright. William subtly motioned to her nose, she quickly wiped the froth off with a serviette.
‘What is it with you opo’s?’ she asked. ‘A law unto yourselves?’
‘The man in Vienna? Just doing my job,’ William said. ‘It was his choice, his path in life that led to that outcome.’ There was never any doubt in William’s mind that his actions were fully justified. There were good guys and bad guys, plain and simple. He was one of the good guys.
‘So, Sarah, tell me about you. You seem like an intelligent girl. How did you end up in this place and not earning a fortune as an international bond trader in the city?’
Sarah screwed her face up and laughed. ‘Bond trader? I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘I graduated from Edinburgh – politics and psychology – then, after applying to MI5 and sitting a few of their tests, I was offered a job here. I’d never heard of F-Branch before but the brief sounded interesting so I jumped at it. I like to think I’m making a real difference here, that’s what motivates me. Anyway, I’ve been here three years now and loved every minute of it. Well, almost every minute. Nothing is perfect, it’s had its moments now and again.’
‘The lovely Mr Pinkerton perchance?’
Never one to let her tongue get the better of her, Sarah smiled but didn’t say anything.
William nodded. ‘There’s more than a few like that in the Army,’ he said. ‘Although they’re often called Rupert for some reason.’
Sarah laughed into her latte. ‘Have you been in his office yet?’
‘Pinkerton’s? Yes. Why?’
‘Did he show you his prize possession?’
‘No,’ William said perking up. ‘Does he do that to all the boys?’
‘Stop it! No. This is something he keeps in his cabinet. It’s a Louis XIII Cognac. Very, very expensive. He’ll tell you the story himself eventually, but it was given to him by the Sultan of Brunei.’
William raised his eyebrows. ‘A very wealthy guy. Why?’
‘Well,’ Sarah said, adopting a quiet tone, ‘many years ago, long before my time when Albert was a junior officer, the Sultan asked for our help. He suspected he had a mole in the higher echelons of his office, someone who was working for the Russians. Albert was known for his knack of sniffing out Russian moles, but that’s another story. So Albert was sent out, on his own, to run the mole-out operation. After only a month he had found the problem. It was a textbook job. The Sultan was clearly impressed with him.’
William frowned. ‘A textbook operation? Is there such a thing?’ He saw a twinkle in Sarah’s eye and smiled. ‘So what really happened?’
‘Cynic,’ she chuckled. ‘Apparently, the suspected mole vanished before the operation was complete. But Albert won’t tell you that bit.’
‘So what happened to the mole? He didn’t whack him, did he?’ William sounded surprised.
Sarah shook her head. ‘Her,’ she corrected. ‘But no, although that was what he wanted the Sultan to believe. The so-called mole, a very attractive young Czech woman, resurfaced some years later during another operation. Turns out she was spying on the Russian GRU for, you guessed it, Albert.’
‘The old devil,’ William spurted with a wry smile. ‘He used the Brunei operation to recruit her.’
‘Anyway, enough about all that. What’s your story?’ Sarah asked.
Talking about his past was something William generally avoided. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and fidgeted. ‘I joined the Army straight from university,’ he began.
‘What did you study?’ Sarah asked looking strangely surprised.
‘Molecular Biology,’ he replied.
Sarah raised her eyebrows. ‘You don’t seem the academic type.’
‘I’m not. Working in academia never did it for me, so I joined the Army, something I’d always wanted to do. During the initial aptitude tests I did surprisingly well in modern languages. As a result, I ended up at the Defence Intelligence School learning Russian and then a bit of Arabic and some others immediately afterwards. Odd really, I never did well at languages when I was at school. Anyway, that led to some work with special forces and, voila, I end up here.’
‘Lucky for you,’ Sarah said, having noted the ridiculous simplicity of the story. She considered probing further, but knew how cagey many of the field operators were about their past. She opted for a softer approach. ‘Any women in your life, or men?’
‘No, on both fronts,’ he said in a tone that let Sarah know she was close to the line.
‘That surprises me,’ Sarah said. Instantly she realised she had to explain further. ‘I mean for a handsome man like you. You must have broken a few hearts.’
William looked beyond Sarah at nothing in particular, and seemed to drift off in thought for a moment. He looked down, and said, ‘There was someone . . .’ He stopped when something vibrated in his pocket; he took out his phone and answered it.
‘Saved by the bell,’ Sarah murmured into her latte.
‘Hades is on the move,’ William said to Sarah after ending the call. In one gulp he finished his coffee.
‘Got to go, gorgeous. Oh, by the way.’ He picked out one of the photos he’d been scrutinising and passed it to Sarah. ‘That’s the waitress, the Chinese girl.’ He winked at her and left.
Sarah watched him as he strode out of the room. ‘Be careful,’ she said quietly to an empty chair.
*
As William sped out of the bar, he almost careered straight into another field agent, Patrick ‘Paddy’ Howard. He side stepped, and continued on his way.
‘No fraternising with the scutters, Willy Wanka,’ Paddy mocked in his strong Geordie accent as William went past.
During his induction week at F-Branch, William had received a briefing from Paddy. Short and stocky with
a thick neck, Paddy had a strained look, as if he constantly struggled to breathe under the weight of his barrel chest. He learned that Paddy had spent ten harsh years as a special forces trooper before he had been recruited into F-Branch as an operational officer. He was barely recognisable from the young, nine-stone weakling who had joined the Parachute Regiment all those years ago. He’d seen action in a dozen countries and had been involved in a plethora of anti-terrorist operations, hostage rescues, surveillance missions, and even a few covert kill-ops. Impulsive and rude, his experience of planning covert operations in hostile environments was second to none.
Noting the petulant remark, William smiled and walked on. He suspected that because he had held the rank of Captain, Paddy, who had never risen above Sergeant, felt it his right and duty to verbally abuse him at every opportunity. ‘Fuckwit,’ he responded rather too loudly.
Instantly enraged, Paddy rounded on him. ‘What was that you said, Wanka?’ he demanded, his reddened face inches from William’s.
Squaring up to him, William stood his ground and looked directly into Paddy’s eyes. ‘Fuck. Wit. It’s a noun. It means selfish, insensitive and otherwise useless prick.’
They eyeballed each other for a few more seconds. William felt the adrenaline rush through his body and tensed himself ready for a fight. Paddy, his face strained, stared for more than a moment too long, then he laughed out loud and stepped back. He slapped William on the shoulder and disappeared into the bar without a further word.
Unfazed by the altercation – William had dealt with such gorillas many times before – he headed out of the building to the underground tunnel and emerged into a secure back street car park where his new souped-up BMW was waiting for him.
There was a hare on the run and the clock was ticking
Chapter 9
1356hrs – Cambridge
Ella sat alone in her kitchen and stared down at the piece of paper in front of her. From the corner of the room a quiet voice from the little radio announced the news headlines. Ella raised her head and listened to the report. Several Islamic terrorists had been arrested, they had been in the latter stages of an attack on London. More were thought to have escaped the net, the police were hunting for them, the public were told to be vigilant. Ella wondered what that really meant. The report was immediately followed by news that a celebrity model had been photographed entering her million pound Chelsea flat in the early hours with a married film star who was supposed to be in rehab. Ella shook her head and returned to the matter at hand.
Find my mother’s final place. It’s yours, to decide. Whether to follow this ancient guide.
Over and over the words echoed uneasily in her mind. If she was going to make any sense of the cryptic poem she had to start somewhere. At speed, she headed for the phone.
‘Hello mum,’ she said when the call was answered.
‘Hello darling,’ her mother replied in a low, soft voice. ‘Nice to hear from you.’ A deliberate reference to Ella’s lack of regular contact.
Ignoring the dig, Ella ploughed on with her plan. ‘I’ve been helping a colleague in the Medical Genetics department. They’ve taken DNA samples from me for a project. I’ll get a bit of cash for it, it all helps, you know how it is.’ Ella shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Deception was not her forte, especially with her mother who usually saw straight through her.
‘Good for you, but isn’t it time for a proper job now? Time to settle down and get ready for a family?’
Ella wasn’t going to be dragged into that conversation again. ‘Well, you see, they need to a know a little bit about my grandparents to help with the analysis,’ she lied. Her heart beat hard in her throat. There was pause on the line, Ella wondered if she’d pushed it too far. She regretted making the call instantly.
‘Oh. Well, they died a long time ago you know,’ her mother answered in a frosty tone. ‘What do they need to know about them?’
‘How they died, how old they were. Just roughly, the nearest decade will do.’ She felt awful but there was no other way, she reassured herself.
‘My mother died not long after you were born. She was in her 60s, it was a stroke that started it. She never really recovered, poor soul. It was terrible to watch. But at least she died peacefully in her sleep, eventually. They say it’s hereditary, you know.’
Ella winced. ‘Ah, yes. I remember you telling me now.’
‘Your granddad, well he died a few years later from a heart attack. But he was much older than my mother. He was in his 80s when he died, a very strong man, still the full shilling right up to the end. A real fighter your granddad was.’ She paused for a moment. ‘So when are you coming up for a weekend?’
‘Soon mum. What about my other grandparents?’ Ella asked with bated breath.
There was a much longer pause this time. Ella realised that she was holding her breath.
‘Why do they need that dear? It was such a long time ago.’
There was something else in the tone of her voice now, Ella detected. A kind of defensiveness.
‘It’s important for the research mum, they need both sides of the family.’ Guiltily, Ella wondered if an honest approach would have been better.
‘Well, the father died during the war,’ she said as a matter of fact as if it pained her to talk about it. ‘Executed in France by the Nazis.’
‘Oh, my God,’ exclaimed Ella. There were so many more questions she wanted to ask, but she held back.
‘And the mother, Elizabeth, she never remarried. Actually I’m not sure if she was ever married in the first place. Probably a disaster, just like your father.’
Here we go, thought Ella. She desperately wanted to avoid any discussion about her father. ‘So how and where did she die, mum?’ she added quickly.
‘Died in the 1960s, I believe,’ she stated a little too firmly. ‘Very sudden anyway.’
‘Oh. Did she live close to us?’
‘Lived in Bedfordshire, a little village somewhere. Everton, that was it. I remember because it’s the same name as the football team, but not the same place.’ The words were delivered quickly without emotion.
‘Oh. Was she buried there too?’ Ella held her breath; this was the only question that mattered.
Her mother sighed deeply down the line. ‘Yes, I believe she was. In the same church I married your father in, in fact.’ Her voice was softer now and slower, like she was recalling the past. ‘He was very insistent that we were married there. Said it was a family thing. Lovely old church, St Mary the Virgin.’
‘Thanks mum. Bye.’ Ella breathed out.
‘Ella.’
‘Yes?’
‘Be careful.’
‘I will,’ she said with a frown and put the phone down.
Suspicious that there was more to know, Ella put the million other questions in her mind to the side. She had what she needed for now.
In any case, there was another mystery to be solved. She picked up the phone again and dialled another number. ‘Hi Darren, it’s me.’
‘Babes, everything okay?’ Darren asked.
‘Yes, great. Are you in the museum lab tomorrow morning?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. I have something for you to look at, if that’s okay?’
‘Sure, what is it?’
‘You’ll see,’ she teased. ‘See you tomorrow.’
Ella replaced the receiver and smiled to herself. She had a strange feeling that somehow her dull, monotonous life was going to change.
Some say be careful of what you wish for.
Chapter 10
1401hrs – London
William searched up and down the car park for his vehicle. He eventually found it hidden between a dirty white transit van and a motorbike. The sporty BMW was dark metallic blue in colour and had silver alloy wheels. The tyres were run-flats and the doors and windows were bullet proof. The underside of the car had been made with a special alloy that was moulded to ensure that improvised explosive devices cou
ld not be stuck to it with magnets.
When he pressed the button on his key fob to open the car the encrypted wireless code was automatically changed, it prevented anyone who may have intercepted the signal from being able to copy and use it. He climbed in and settled into the black leather seat. He was impressed, it was clean and comfortable. He turned on the ignition, the powerful engine roared into life and put a satisfied, if not a little boyish, grin on his face. After switching on the sat-nav system, he pushed a tiny covert ear piece into his left ear and linked up his phone with it. It created a secure open line back to the support staff at F-Branch. Compared to the Army, William learned, F-Branch technology was light years ahead.
Gently, he slid the car into gear and accelerated past the barriers out onto the busy streets of central London. He was looking forward to feeling the power of the machine on the open road, he cursed when he turned the corner and instantly came to a halt behind an ocean of traffic. It was rush hour; rush period was a more accurate description, a three hour slot of nightmarish traffic that brought London to a virtual standstill twice a day, five days a week. It wasn’t going to be easy catching up with the target in the centre of town, William hoped his hare would take him far out of the city and on to the motorways.
‘Okay, Ollie. Where am I going?’ he asked over the secure link.
Ollie was sat alone in the TSU lab surrounded by screens. Eagerly, he watched the digital map that showed where Hades’ mobile phone currently was. He looked at the data from his hack-tool and shook his head, something was worrying him. ‘William, I’m sorry, but I’m going to switch over to passive triangulation. Using the GPS module is hard on the battery and he’s already pretty low.’
Triangulation of the phone masts would locate the phone to within a radius of ten or twenty metres in the city, but only to one or two kilometres in more rural areas. Ollie logged out of the target phone, closed his hacking program and switched to the cell-site triangulation tool that he already had open. A small red circle on a map showed the area that the phone was presently in. The program also showed the roughly estimated speed of the device that was being tracked.
The Secret of Hades' Eden Page 8
