The Black Rose Conspiracy

by James McKenna

  "Pug." Victoria wrinkled her nose.

  "This is all I know but I'm sure you'll soon be briefed on him. Paxos is a beautiful location and inexpensive out of season. Also it's convenient for several leading Mafia bosses to moor up on their mega yachts. We believe this will include factions in the Italian and Baltic Mafia, noticeably Vasco Aguzzi who launders for America and Gjon Krata who launders for the Russians. Both are Silverman's ex-partners and want the twenty billion Silverman secreted away. Eleanor Baxter will do all she can to prevent that. And in my opinion, that includes murder. Hence we are operating with CAT. With that kind of heavy metal, Fagan and team will be useful to have around, so might Joe Carver."

  "Who else?" Victoria asked.

  "Denise Fielding."

  "She's openly butch."

  "She's also a good boxer. But I think you will find her quite a prince charming underneath. If you appear to be in a stable relationship, the pushier gay members of the DJP will leave you alone. It's my little concession, dear, while allowing you to socialise and put yourself about as only you can. On return to England you will need invitations to the right dinner tables."

  Victoria smiled, tight-lipped. With Alice you either did or did not. If Victoria refused the operation, the rest of her year would be spent behind a desk in some obscure cubbyhole.

  "Who else could provide help if needed?" she asked.

  "Don't know. All are provided by Colonel Fox of CAT but I'm sure they will be the right people, particularly if some Mafia thug has to be dealt with.

  "And what exactly does that mean?"

  "Those troublesome little details which can't be put on report." Alice lifted her hand and clenched her fingers, her expression as if she was searching for words. "Let me be perfectly plain about this. Operation Black Rose is off record because many people in MI5 are openly, and quite legitimately, supporters of the DJP. While the majority observe our code of secrecy, it's possible some lesser beings might be indiscreet. Not deliberately perhaps, but enough to blow your cover if you go under an alias. That requires Denise, Fagan and yourself to operate openly as eager recruits to the DJP. They want intelligent and capable people. CAT operatives will be lurking nearby supplying ordnance and support when required."

  "When do I meet them?"

  "Fagan will introduce you. Those from CAT are very versatile."

  Victoria sipped at her coffee. Alice was staring at her, looking directly into her eyes as if daring her to question the unorthodox set up of the operation.

  "It's too vague, Alice. Give me something positive to work on."

  "If the DJP gain influential parliamentary power and Eleanor Baxter gets her hands-on Silverman's billions, leaders of the global Mafia will use her to influence British politics. With the DJP as cover, certain elements within the Mafia will select their own candidates for membership of the Conservative, Labour and Liberal parties. Corruption goes a long way in modern politics, particularly when it can offer part of twenty billion in bribes to the right contacts."

  Victoria shook her head. "But the DJP is against crime. They want to clean up our streets with zero tolerance. I can understand corruption in high places, but that will occur anyway."

  "Sadly you're right," Alice said. "But I'm referring to a twofold attack. Once the Mafia have MPs in Parliament corruption will increase dramatically. And when our streets are cleaned by a strong police force with DJP backing, people traffickers will replace the indigenous petty criminals with their own. These people will stay under Mafia control. They'll concentrate on drugs, prostitution, financial services and protection. Any who are caught will simply be replaced. This is a delicate one, Victoria, based on suspicions and strictly off record. But if the suspicions are correct the consequences will be catastrophic. We must find that twenty billion before the bad guys. Use whatever means you can."

  CHAPTER 7

  Outside the Organised Crime Agency HQ, Sean walked slowly back to his car. The sun now shone from a sharp blue sky and girls had materialised in the first bright clothes of the new season. Sean's meter was bordering time and a traffic warden stood waiting, his pen poised. Sean gave his nice guy smile and watched the man step back.

  Tall and leaner than in previous years, Sean knew the hard-cut uncertainty of his presence could be intimidating. It was a presence he had matured to perfection, plus a smile to reassure old ladies or frighten off Rottweilers. Inside the car he opened the operations file. It contained police reports and contact numbers. On top lay a white envelope containing a single sheet with a mobile number. The phone rang four times before she answered. She gave no ID, just used her soft voice to say hallo.

  "How's Mrs Fagan?"

  "I've been expecting you." Her voice changed, becoming monotone and business pitched, not the warm enticing voice that had whispered across the pillow.

  "We are to liaise, Mrs Fagan," he said.

  "Mrs Fagan has long departed. As a representative of MI5, I've been instructed to brief you. If you would be here within the hour, please. You have the address."

  "Yes," he paused. "Just think of it, Victoria. You and I sharing our own operation."

  "Don't try to butter me up, Sean. It's over."

  "Perhaps if ..."

  "No compromise." The call switched off and Sean drove out into the traffic, his mind full of possibilities, wondering who really asked for him, Alice Sibree or Victoria. Best it was over, he thought. Best just to be friends, if that was possible.

  After six months she looked the same, discrete makeup, hair pulled into a chignon, slim, shapely body under a smart business suit. Pretty good for thirty-three.

  "This is a safe house." She greeted him at the door. "But it's not in the loop. No one but Alice and my operative know where it is. As of now, it's base HQ."

  "That secure?" He walked past her into the hallway as she closed the door then pushed two locking bars into place.

  "Standard precaution." She ushered him into the living room. A small kitchen led off to the left, the place was simply but adequately furnished, the décor bland. Definitely a short lease apartment. She poised on high heels, hands clasped as if to lecture. Sean thought her incredibly sexy.

  "You going to brief me first, or show me the bedroom?"

  Her head went up, shoulders back. He'd seen the Wicked Witch strike such a stance on point of attack. She definitely had a strong influence on Victoria's training. On the other hand, this lack of friendliness might be a way to check her emotions. Being formal and hostile meant she probably still loved him. Then maybe not. For a moment her big brown eyes flared, then narrowed.

  "Inspector Fagan, our affair is over. By mutual agreement it finished six months ago. Don't for one moment think it will restart."

  "Detective Chief Inspector Fagan, if you don't mind. I've gone up in the world. I've also got a new girl, Bella. She's moved in with me."

  Victoria's eyes had always been a giveaway. He watched them falter, watched the minute shrinkage of her body, lips pressed. Her interlocked fingers opened then very slowly closed again. It wasn't often he got such a look from a woman, it made him feel wanted. The counterstrike had worked.

  "I'm glad for you," she said, her smile tight. "It will simplify our operation." She raised a small, slim hand as the bedroom door opened. The girl who emerged was athletic in build with rough, cropped hair and no makeup. "This is Denise, my operative," Victoria said. Denise nodded and extended her hand. Her grip was firm, brief, then she turned away and sat on the fake leather couch. Victoria hesitated before sitting beside her, her legs sedately pressed. Two files lay on the glass coffee table along with a laptop. Everything had been carefully prepared.

  "Take a seat." Victoria indicated the armchair opposite.

  Sean sat and blatantly eyed Denise. She was dressed in tight jeans and tight sweater, both of which she filled with attractive proportions. She looked back with cold detachment, not in any way perturbed or intimidated. Sean turned his gaze back to Victoria, who asked, "Have you been briefed?"<
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  "Surface-wise, nothing serious."

  "Well, let me tell you from the outset, Operation Black Rose is MI5. It's also off record and, equally important, under my control."

  "I work for CAT."

  "Only via the Organised Crime Agency who will assist MI5 with criminal intelligence and backup. You now work for me."

  Sean let his gaze drift down to her knees and waited for her legs to swivel sideways.

  "I still work for CAT."

  "So long as you provide the information required and assist as needed, you can work for whom you want, Sean baby." She graced him with a smile. "You can also look up my skirt all you want but it does not change the fact that this operation is mine. MI5 is funding the operation and MI5 will assess the intelligence gathered. Your contact for covert surveillance of the DJP in Paxos will be provided by CAT." She paused, lifted then crossed her legs with slow deliberation. "As the DJP is a feminist group, Denise and I have already agreed a means of penetration, from which you are excluded." She turned to Denise and gave a soft smile before looking back.

  Sean let his own smile match hers. Since knowing her he had learnt a lot about devious women. "Providing you're straight with me, I'll be straight with you," he said. "So what do you want of me?"

  "First, I want all the information you can get on the demise of each widow's husband. I don't mean what's on record, we already have that. I mean what's off record. The hunches and beliefs of the individual coppers who investigated. Look for a common factor. You have two days, then you go to Paxos where you'll carry out covert surveillance of the DJP inner circle. Some of their leaders are already there but the serious convention does not start 'til the weekend. They're holding a meeting there the same time as certain Mafia bankers and Mafia bosses are passing through. We'll be walking on dangerous ground."

  "What's our cover?"

  "As I said, Denise and I already have ours." She pushed one of the files towards him. "You'll simply be on holiday, but eager to join in. Due to the popular support of the DJP, members of the British Security Service may already be associated with our suspects, so we have no alternative but to retain our own identities. It's one of the reasons you were selected. You're a loner, always have been. At the moment you're out of any serious police job but potentially an ideal candidate for recruitment into the DJP. That means you not only carry out surveillance but you also make social contact. Until we know the calibre of the opposition, for security reasons, I suggest from tomorrow you sleep and operate from here. My apologies to Bella."

  Sean glanced over the stoic expressions on both their faces. "Looks like there's only one bedroom, so for operational purposes do we get to share?" He grinned. Neither woman responded.

  "Next to the front door is a windowless box room with a shower and cloakroom opposite. You'll sleep there. Denise and I have the main bedroom with en suite. You may use the kitchen and lounge if you wish."

  Sean shrugged and remembered the warmth of their past love, the sweet smell of her skin, her hair and the soft touch of her fingers. Could neglect and time really destroy such feelings, just because both had been scared to give commitment?

  "OK," he said. "But if we operate separately, how do we co-ordinate our information?"

  Victoria nudged the laptop. "It's encrypted. If we don't see each other here and you want to leave messages too sensitive for a mobile, you leave them on the laptop. Only the three of us have access. It will be handed over to Alice before we depart for Paxos." Victoria clasped hands over knees. "Denise and I will go separately as groupies of the DJP. You will go as if on holiday. You'll watch Krata’s yacht from the hillside, you'll watch their beach parties and their dinner parties in the tavernas. Try and get any evidence of the missing billions and on the planned meetings with Aguzzi and Krata. If you record it on video our experts will lip-read and get the drift of their conversations. This is a convention for party faithful, so the whole port of Lakka will be full of women. Intermingle, we want them to recruit you."

  Sean shook his head. "The DJP is a feminist party, even in a holiday village, a lone male will stand out."

  "There will be other men." Denise spoke for the first time. "Male members of the DJP, husbands, yachtsmen and genuine holidaymakers passing through. The DJP will only be there for a few days but DJP groups will have packages for a week or more. And because of their open attitudes to free expression, expect a large gay community, men, but particularly women. And of course, you can always partner up with Pug."

  Victoria laughed and for a moment her whole face lit up. Sean saw her fleetingly as he had remembered, a time when they had laughed and joked and ribbed each other.

  "Who's Pug?"

  "One of your contacts in Paxos. He's there now, setting up whatever ordnance and ops we need." Victoria pushed a file towards him. "Also he will help you make contact with a guy called Joe Carver, one-time CAT agent and boyfriend of Laura Manning. I'm told he's a recovering alcoholic but also very capable. We need him back in the fold. That's your itinerary for the holiday package deal. You fly out of Gatwick at 0600 on Friday. When you're not doing surveillance, I want you in the bars and restaurants discussing politics, setting yourself up as a new and important recruit for the DJP."

  Again Sean shook his head. "The plan is flawed. Years ago I arrested Laura Manning when she was Mrs Silverstroni, the charge was fraud. It served a purpose at the time but the charges were later dropped. She might recognise me."

  Victoria's little enigmatic smile appeared, the one he had grown to love.

  "It will enhance your authenticity. And there is another possibility," she said. "You're tall, strong and for many women, a handsome man. Surrounded by gays and in holiday spirit, Laura might just wish to renew your acquaintance."

  Sean stared at her with a sense of disbelief. "More likely with a bullet."

  "No. She wants to appear respectable, she's an MP. You're an ideal vehicle for that. She's only forty-seven and still an attractive woman. One can learn so much about a person from across the pillow, don't you think?"

  "You're joking?" He looked between them. Both smiled back.

  "What better cover for her new image than to have a senior policeman as her partner? On our side, we couldn't hope for a better source of information. Mainly, does she still have links to the Mafia or knowledge of the twenty billion?"

  "Who thought this up, the Wicked Witch?"

  "No, I did, but she approved. Forget about Bella, at least until the op is over."

  CHAPTER 8

  Bella came running to the door in greeting and allowed him to scoop her into his arms where she nuzzled against his neck. He shook his head on hearing her purr of contentment, knowing such greeting was cupboard love. The cat had been the idea of his youngest daughter, Sophie, her innocent answer to his solitary bachelor life. She and her elder sister, Becky, had clubbed their money together and presented Sean with Bella for his last birthday. He couldn't say no. Now Bella strutted her style as the proud resident of a one-bedroom flat off Camden High Street, spending more time there than Sean, though he suspected most days were on the floor of Ada Crankshore's next door, nipping back through the cat flap at the sound of Sean's approach. Ada Crankshore fed the cat when Sean was away. In return Sean kept an eye out for the old lady, phoning every day to make sure she was OK. He never knew if she had family, only Bella and her own cat, all three clinging to each other in a lonely place.

  Sean packed most of his clothes, chinos, linen jacket, shirts, sweater, two pairs of shoes, assorted underwear and socks, then on second thoughts, also his swimming trunks, shorts and tee shirts. It cleared out half of his wardrobe. A framed photograph of his two daughters stood on a chest of drawers, their bright smiling faces staring back in permanent happiness. Both were blossoming young women, growing up and growing away, one at university, the other starting A Levels. In time past he had always packed a photograph of Camilla, his wife. Now her image lay in some envelope along with his wedding ring. History. A marriage which
lay victim to long hours on the job, intense police surveillance, too many late nights writing reports, too many broken promises. Divorce came as a shock and his daughters had never forgiven him, blaming him for tearing apart the nucleus of family life. In consolation he had Bella. He renewed the litter-tray, lifted a case of twenty-four cans of cat food then rang Ada's doorbell.

  "Going away are we? For a long time by the look of it," she said, her old eyes bright and knowing.

  "Maybe a couple of weeks," Sean said. "I can put her in a cattery but I wondered ... "

  "No problem, bring them in here." She led the way into the kitchen. The place was meticulously tidy with a smell of lavender. "I don't suppose you'll be phoning then?" She turned to him, hands resting on a walking stick.

  "Probably not." Sean placed the tins on the worktop.

  "No worry, I have a girl from the Social call every Tuesday. A young Muslim girl, very chirpy, not at all as they say. Are you going to war?"

  "No, no." Sean began to back out. "Government work."

  "I lost my husband in the war." She shook her head and followed him back towards the door. "How many soldiers die because of stupid politicians? They never learn. You take care, keep your head down. I'll look after Bella."

  "Thank you, Mrs Crankshore." Sean returned to his own place, empty without Bella's love.

  After Sean left to collect clothes from his flat, Victoria had suggested she and Denise take a night out and get acquainted with one another. For at least two weeks they would be constant companions, supposedly in a close relationship that would be under scrutiny. After a couple of beers, a meal and three hours in a wine bar, Victoria felt both knew at least the surface life of the other. Denise only spoke once about her girlfriends, saying she never kept anyone constant because the job kept her drifting. She then smiled at Victoria, questioning. It was the only time Victoria had felt uneasy.