‘Did Marie get to you safely?’
‘She did,’ said Knox, coming into view and sipping from a water glass. ‘We’ve got her here at headquarters in one of the guest suites. She’ll start helping us with the investigation from our end in the morning once she’s had a chance to rest.’
‘Thanks,’ said Nathan.
‘Any news on where that command centre is now?’ said Eva.
‘We’ve had some new intel come through in the past hour,’ said Miles. ‘The shipping container is in Atârnati, a town north of Bucharest.’
Eva groaned when he told them about the burned-out truck. ‘Same as the hangars at the airfield.’
‘Except they stripped all the equipment out the back of the container first. That’s still missing.’
‘What about the driver?’ said Eva. ‘Any sign of him?’
‘What was left of him was in the container,’ said Knox. ‘Looks like they threw acid over his hands and face first to make absolutely sure he couldn’t be identified.’
‘Hang on,’ said Nathan. ‘If they were planning on heading to Romania, why didn’t they drive straight through the Ukraine?’
‘Perhaps trying to avoid detection.’ Decker folded his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow.
‘That’s what we’re thinking,’ said Miles. ‘The place is still under a lot of surveillance from NATO and the NSA, though of course they won’t confirm that.’
‘Whoever stripped out the shipping container can easily find another one to retrofit with the equipment necessary to fly that drone,’ said Nathan. ‘It’s easier to transport it undetected if it’s broken up into smaller parts, isn’t it?’
‘So, where’s the command centre heading?’ said Eva. ‘What’s its final destination? Romania, or somewhere else?’
‘I’ve been having some discreet discussions with the Foreign Secretary and Edward Toskins about that.’ Knox leaned forward, his eyes troubled. ‘Given the direction of travel and the current ambitions of some members of the government, we believe the equipment for the command centre is being transported through Bulgaria to northern Turkey. We haven’t located the drone yet – it could be there already.’
‘Why Turkey?’
‘Because any instability there would impact both Europe and the Middle East,’ said Miles. ‘We’ve been taking another look at reports coming in over the past six months and we think whoever’s behind all of this is trying to take advantage of that. Jeffrey Dukes was active in Ankara before his death, and we have to assume he got too close to the truth.’
‘Shit,’ said Decker. ‘That changes things. When do we leave?’
The Section chief wagged his finger at them. ‘I don’t want you heading there just yet.’
‘Why the hell not?’
‘There’s a more pressing matter,’ said Miles.
‘I doubt it.’
Knox glared at Decker’s response, and Eva shook her head at the older assassin before turning back to the screen.
‘What is it?’
‘A second attack was made prior to the airfield in Belarus being abandoned,’ said the Section chief.
‘Where?’ Eva asked.
‘A hundred miles or so north of Ankara.’ The screen changed to show an image of a man wearing a business suit and smiling at the camera in a posed photograph that looked as if it was from a company website. ‘Do either of you recognise this man?’
Nathan shook his head.
‘Never seen him before in my life,’ said Eva.
‘We’ve had word come in that the director of an NGO based in Ankara left his hotel yesterday and didn’t return,’ said Knox. ‘Goes by the name of Adrian Ogilvy. His room had been ransacked. There were no fingerprints – whoever did it was a professional, and we can’t be certain what they were looking for. The remains of his vehicle and one belonging to a local man called Mahdi were found destroyed out in the middle of nowhere.’
‘That doesn’t mean it was a drone strike,’ said Decker.
Miles flicked up a satellite image. ‘It does when there are two fucking great craters like this.’
‘Shit.’
‘Three strikes, three missiles,’ said Eva. ‘Whoever this is, they’ve got one left.’
‘Which means they’re either saving the last one for a specified target, or––’
‘––they’re waiting for supplies,’ said Decker.
‘How do you know he was killed with the same drone?’ said Nathan.
‘We don’t, not for sure but given the fact that both his vehicle and that of a local man were found at the site of two reported explosions out in the desert, and that the damage sustained to those vehicles and the immediate landscape is not dissimilar to that seen in missile attacks, we have to conclude that Ogilvy was targeted by the same person or people who killed Jeffrey Dukes.’
‘Why target either of those? What connects them?’
‘We’ll get to that in a moment,’ said Knox. ‘The point is––’
‘Whoever’s behind this is almost out of ammunition,’ said Decker. ‘He’s got one missile left, so he’ll need more for whatever he’s got planned now that the shipment to restock the drone was intercepted.’
‘Working on the basis our enemy will try to infiltrate another legitimate shipment of arms, we met with Edward Toskins from the Department for International Trade this morning,’ said Miles. ‘He’s given us a list of recent arms sales the British government has approved and there’s only one that includes Hellfire missiles. That left Florida yesterday afternoon.’
‘What’s the likelihood of those missiles being intercepted en route?’ said Eva.
‘None, not now,’ said Knox. ‘We shared our intel with our counterparts in the US and there are now agents on that ship, and a submarine escort. They’ll also work with MI6 to make sure agents are at the ports the ship intends to visit prior to getting to Ízmir.’
‘That’s something, at least,’ said Nathan, ‘but what connects Ogilvy to the Foreign Office – let alone Dukes?’
‘We’ve found out who Jeffrey Dukes really was.’ Miles picked up a document and scanned the page before his gaze returned to the screen. ‘Both men were members of the Association of Former Intelligence Officers.’
‘Told you – spooks,’ said Decker, unable to keep the smug tone from his voice. ‘It’s always bloody spooks.’
Eva ignored him. ‘What’s their history?’
‘Ogilvy used to work in West Berlin for Interpol back in the late eighties, and Dukes was active for MI6 – they won’t tell us where, but we’re presuming he was working behind the Iron Curtain for a period of time.’ Miles put the document to one side. ‘At least that explains why we couldn’t find a history for him – not a believable one – beyond his time at the Foreign Office, anyway.’
‘I’ve never heard of the Association,’ said Nathan, his fingers working the keyboard to bring up an encrypted search engine.
‘It’s US-based with a few international members,’ said Knox. ‘It’s not secretive in any way – they share open information, discuss bilateral agreements, organise get-togethers during the year––’
‘Why kill two retired spies in such a way?’ Eva shoved back her chair and paced the floor. ‘What was the point?’
‘We think we might be able to shed some light on that,’ said Knox. ‘When we met with Toskins earlier, he confirmed that Dukes was due to meet with Ogilvy while in Ankara last week. Obviously, Toskins was under the impression it was to do with some sort of trade deal, but when we spoke to MI6 and dug a little deeper, it turns out Dukes knew Ogilvy from the old days. They used to trade information – what we’re trying to do is find out whether they were still doing so, and why.’
‘Whatever it was, it’s evident they got too close and whoever’s behind this decided to stop them. Permanently,’ said Miles. ‘I’ve got a team of analysts trying to trace where that command centre’s been moved to. I’ve still got contacts in the NSA so we might be able to
piggy-back off of one of their satellites.’
‘We’ve also spoken to the Association of Former Intelligence Officers in the US and asked them for a list of British members,’ said Knox. There’s only one left now. Patrick Leavey.’
‘Where’s he?’ said Eva.
‘Lisbon,’ said Miles. ‘There’s an address for him on file, but it’s several years old.’
Knox cleared his throat. ‘Your mission is to go to Portugal, find Patrick Leavey, and then get him to North Africa.’
‘Why North Africa?’ said Nathan.
‘Because the ship is due to dock in Algiers before heading for Malta and Ízmir,’ said Knox, ‘and there’s plenty of open desert around that destination. If we can convince whoever’s in charge of that drone that Patrick has discovered what their plans are and that he’s there to stop them, we might be able to force their hand.’
Eva narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you saying you want to use Leavey to draw out this rogue Reaper – as bait – in order to use up its last missile before they can resupply or find out about the intercept planned in Malta?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Fuck me,’ said Decker, a look of disbelief crossing his chiselled features. ‘He’s not going to like that, is he?’
Chapter Thirty-Six
Lisbon, Portugal
* * *
Eva pulled her sunglasses off her head, swung her backpack over her shoulder and fell into step beside Decker and Nathan.
The Sete Rios bus station hummed with activity, heaving with a swarming mass of people departing vehicles that had travelled several hundred miles across Europe before ending their journey at the coastal city.
She glared at a youth who eyed her hungrily, his gaze lingering over her as if weighing up what valuables she might be carrying, and then flicked back her jacket to reveal the gun tucked into her waistband.
His eyes widened, the cigarette dangling from his lips falling to the pavement before he scurried away.
‘Stop that,’ said Decker. ‘There are cameras coming up.’
Eva grinned, and adjusted her jacket.
‘The trams are this way.’ Nathan jerked his head towards a sign, then peered at his phone screen. ‘We can catch one into the centre and then walk from there.’
‘Why can’t we walk from here?’ said Decker. ‘Less chance of being seen.’
‘Because if the past few days are anything to go by, we might already be too late,’ said Eva under her breath. ‘If Knox and Miles are right about these men, then Patrick Leavey is a target too. It’s been bad enough having to travel by bus to avoid the airports. We’ve lost a day and a half already.’
‘I still don’t like it.’
‘Tough.’
Twenty minutes later, they disembarked beside a busy square lined with restaurants and cafés teeming with tourists, and slunk into the shadows of a side street out of sight.
‘It’s a quarter mile from here to Leavey’s last known address,’ said Nathan, holding up his phone to improve the signal. ‘Follow me.’
‘Don’t lead us right to him,’ warned Eva. ‘Give me a heads up when we’re a few hundred metres away, all right?’
The former intelligence officer gave Eva a quick smile, then led them on a snaking route leading away from the square and into Bairro Alto.
Eva cast her gaze over graffiti-tagged walls, admiring the intricate designs and artwork in between the childish tags peppering the brickwork.
The narrow lanes held a desolation borne of an area used to waking at night and sleeping during the day.
Shirts, blouses and other items of clothing flapped from washing lines strung across wrought-iron balconies, the colours a striking contrast to the grey security shutters protecting the nightclubs and bars from unwanted attention.
A radio played through one of the open windows, its volume kept low as the soft music wafted over their heads, the dulcet tones of a classical guitar thrumming beneath the chirping from caged birds who peered with beady eyes from their lofty perches.
Eva turned her attention to a narrow street that ended on her left, a steep incline arcing away from their position.
A yellow and white tram stood stationary on its funicular rails, the driver mumbling to another man who crouched next to the rear bogey wheels and muttered a response as he whacked the axle of the vintage streetcar with a large spanner before shaking his head.
‘It’s up here.’
Nathan’s voice roused her from her observations, and she turned her attention to see him waiting patiently at a crossroads.
He indicated to a building a hundred metres away on their right, its peeling honey-coloured façade in shadow.
The small group crossed the street, hugging the plasterwork walls of the neighbouring properties before slipping into a stone-hewn alcove.
A wooden green door blocked their entry, and Eva ran her finger down the list of names beside a security panel set into the stone wall.
‘Which apartment?’ she hissed.
‘Three,’ said Nathan.
She hit the button for apartment five, a soft buzz filling the air.
‘Olá.’
‘Entrega,’ Eva replied, and crossed her fingers.
‘What are you going to do if someone comes down the stairs looking for their delivery?’ said Decker.
She shrugged as the door gave under her touch and she pushed it open. ‘Tell them I got the wrong address.’
A coolness enveloped her as she stepped into the hallway, the polished stone tiles deadening her footsteps. She turned as Decker and Nathan joined her, the latter easing the door closed.
Resting her hand on the wooden balustrade, she peered through the railings up to the first landing.
Two doors faced the stairs, both closed and both in need of new paint.
From behind the one on the right she could hear a radio playing – a rock anthem she recognised from her teens. From the other––
Nothing.
‘I can’t hear a fucking thing over that music,’ she hissed to Decker.
‘If Leavey’s in there, then neither will he,’ came the reply.
The older assassin began walking up the stairs without waiting for her response, and she glanced over her shoulder at Nathan.
‘Do we follow?’ he said.
Eva shook her head.
No sense in all of them getting shot if Leavey took exception to the interruption to his daily routine.
Movement to her right sent goosebumps flittering across her forearms and she turned to see the apartment door beside them open a crack.
An old woman peered out, grey hair escaping from under a brightly-coloured scarf and keen grey eyes behind a pair of glasses. She wore a bright yellow housecoat over jeans and held a cigarette between her lips.
‘Who are you?’ she said, her voice no more than a rasp. ‘What do you want?’
Eva waved her back. ‘We’re looking for a friend of ours. Nothing to worry about.’
The woman frowned, removed the cigarette, then pointed upwards with it. ‘Above here? The Englishman?’
‘Yes.’
‘He is not in.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I watch everyone.’
Eva grinned. ‘I’m sure you do. Do you know where he went?’
‘No.’
‘Any idea when he might be back?’
‘No.’
Eva turned away from her as Decker appeared at the top of the stairs.
‘The apartment’s deserted,’ he said in a low tone. ‘Looks like he cleared out a while back. There’s nothing there.’
The old woman crushed the cigarette under her shoe as she stepped into the hallway and pushed Eva to one side before peering up the stairs. ‘Decker?’
He frowned. ‘How the hell do you know my name?’
In response, she pulled Eva across the threshold, beckoning to the others.
‘Get inside, now,’ she hissed.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
> Recovering from the initial shock, Eva twisted in the woman’s grip as she tumbled over the threshold and slammed her into the wall beside the door.
She wrenched the woman’s arm behind her back as Nathan and Decker stormed into the room, surprised at the strength and resistance she met.
The older assassin closed the door and forced his face next to the woman’s as she tried to lift her cheek from the plasterwork.
‘Start talking.’
‘I will. Let me go. I’m not your enemy.’
Decker gave a quick nod to Eva and she stepped away, confident that with three of them against one, the woman posed no further threat.
The woman exhaled, rubbing her wrist.
‘Thank you.’
Eva watched, fascinated as the woman moved to lock the door then straightened, gaining another two inches in height before whipping the scarf from her head and removing a grey wig.
Next, she began to tear at her skin, picking away at the flesh until it came away in strips that she balled into her fist.
‘Latex,’ she mumbled, except her voice was deeper now, baritone.
She took off her glasses before removing coloured contact lenses, then grinned and stuck fingers into her mouth and removed padding from her cheeks.
The effect was complete.
Instead of an old wizened woman, a man in his early sixties stood before them, green eyes keen as he registered their surprised faces while he exchanged his housecoat for a white cotton shirt that he tucked into his jeans.
‘Patrick Leavey?’ said Decker.
‘Yes.’
‘How do you know who I am?’
Eva placed her hand on the assassin’s arm, confusion radiating off him as he glared at the former agent. ‘He has a point, Leavey.’
‘All in good time.’ Leavey crossed a threadbare rug to the shuttered windows and opened the wooden blinds a crack. ‘Did anyone follow you here?’
‘No – we doubled back a few times on the way here,’ said Eva. ‘We haven’t been traced.’
‘Yet.’ Leavey sighed and turned back to them. ‘Who do you work for, then?’
Assassins Rogue Page 14
