Tim Heath Thriller Boxset

by Tim Heath

  “I'd hardly call it walking, not yet anyway.” John was smiling, almost laughing with her. There was real comfort, real warmth of friendship. If anything, she'd grown closer to him over the last week, something John too had become aware of and was happy about.

  “You'll be running before no time; you mark my words.”

  “Running? Me? Do you think I am the type?”

  “Well, regardless of what you can't remember, I guess you can become whoever you want to be now, can't you?”

  “I guess you are right, Lorna, I guess you're right,” he said, before changing his tone a little, becoming more serious, his eyes more intense. “Do you think I will be able to take a walk outside? I mean in the fresh air. I've not been outside in, well, a long time. So much so that I have no memory of the outside world. It's as if I've only ever lived in this room. I want to get some fresh air at some point soon, Lorna. Do you think you could arrange that?”

  She had no idea but didn't want to let on.

  “John, if you continue as you are, you'll be out of here in no time! Then you can have all the fresh air you want!”

  “You think so?” he said, as enthusiastic as a child being let loose in a sweet shop.

  “Sure, why not? Your wounds are healing nicely. Maybe they'll be completely healed before the end of the month. You are starting to walk more, and strength will only build in your legs from here on. As long as you keep working hard at the sessions you are having now, John, okay?”

  “Yes, ma'am,” he said, an at first severe but then amused grin appearing on his face before it turned into a broad smile.

  “How do you feel in all this, John?”

  “What do you mean?” he said, his smile still there, but the question showing in his eyes.

  “I mean, entering the real world with all the awareness of what has happened to you here. The visions, the knowledge of what you need to do.”

  “Did you have to remind me of all that?” he said but wasn't angry. Of course, she had to remind him, it was all Lorna had left to do, but she didn't want to tell him that.

  “As if I could forget,” he continued. “Look, I guess in I will know in time, right? I mean, at some point, something will tell me it's happening. Something will take place, or I will see something, or maybe have another vision. I don't know right now, but I'm sure it will be clear. It could be years before it happens, it's not as if I have just to sit and wait. I might have my whole life to live. So it's not something I have to overthink about, is it?”

  “I don't know,” Lorna said, not sure why she was saying this. “I think, well, you've seen this now, so maybe it's happening sooner than you think?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Just a feeling. I mean, why reveal something to someone if it's years, or even decades away? How are you meant to carry on, knowing what you know?”

  “I guess I see your point. So you think it might happen soon?”

  “Sooner than you imagine, I bet. It's just a case of always being ready.”

  “I'm ready, as ready as I'll ever be, I guess.” He sounded confident of that fact, and Lorna was undoubtedly going to take his word for it.

  “Tell me, if you would.” He paused at that, Lorna turning to him, encouraging him on. “When it comes to it, in the moments just before, somehow, if it's possible, can you be there with me?”

  Wow, she didn't know what to say. She smiled at John. Words were now forming.

  “Of course I will be, John. I'll be right there with you. You only have to call, and I will come running. Don't have any fear about that.”

  “Thanks, that would mean the world.” After he said this, there was a long silence, as each of them went into their own imaginings, churning through their thoughts, processing their feelings. It was not an awkward silence, far from it. They'd perfected the ability to just be silent with one another, knowing the good it was doing them both.

  For Lorna, it enabled her to think through what she had just said, to justify it in her own way if needed. It helped her get through each encounter, to hold her head high at the end of it all, knowing that she wasn't the monster that some of her thoughts were accusing her of being. She was far from a beast, she now reminded herself. She was just doing her job, a job that was vital for all; a job that would save the lives of millions of people.

  After nearly five minutes, she got up quickly and continued with some work, making herself useful, but there was not too much that needed to be done. John also came back from his thoughts, picking up his latest book, the pages opening at the exact place he'd finished before. The old paperback showed signs that it had been a well-read little book, which made it all the more appealing to John. Soon he was lost once again in the novel, and Lorna took some things out of the door and down the corridor. The soldiers were standing on duty outside, and another two teams were in the hallway as she got to the kitchen area. Finally, she passed what had once been her sleep room and where Alison had been killed a week ago, the thoughts now coming back once again. Lorna had not been back in there since. Though the room had been closed for a few days following the attack, she couldn't bring herself to sleep in there when it had reopened, too saddened by the memories. Rest itself was once again eluding her. She was now taking more pills than ever, but they were having little effect.

  It was early afternoon as two figures made their way across a park on the furthest reaches of the city, where the buildings met the countryside. Here life seemed unaffected by all the death that had been happening in other parts of the city. The trees were still looking healthy, the air felt fresh. Around the vast park, there were signs of life. Several people were walking dogs, and a few children were playing in the playground, their mothers standing around, chatting. It wasn't cold, but the heat of summer had long passed.

  On the far side, a long way away from the more public areas of the park, and therefore the listening ears, there were some benches. In summertime, these were often taken by old ladies, chatting away about the latest gossip, or artists, who would draw the city that stretched in the distance before them. Today, only one person was there, and the two figures working their way through the shadows soon joined him, seating themselves beside him and not saying a word for a moment. One of them pulled out a small device from his jacket pocket and switched it on. It was highly unlikely that anyone was listening in on them, but even if they were, the piece of equipment they just switched on would make it impossible to hear what was being said, unless they were physically there listening.

  In quick unbroken Chinese, they spoke amongst themselves.

  “The seven Africans are being held by the British. The Word is that they are buying the story and who they are, though they have no idea what they were doing.”

  “That will be sorted out soon, of course.”

  “And word on the patient?”

  “Seems to be making progress. Should be out within the month. Probably less.”

  “And everything is in place for the final stage?”

  “Yes, we are all in place. The British have no idea.”

  “Good, let's keep it that way. We need them to keep chasing these Africans. See if you can stir something up on those lines.”

  “Yes, sir.” They started to get up, the meeting finishing as quickly as it had started.

  “This has to go smoothly, we can't allow anything to go wrong now, and we must get what we came for.”

  “Of course, sir, you can count on us.”

  “Good. You know, you are doing your country a great service. It will not be forgotten, comrades, this will certainly not be forgotten.”

  “Thank you, sir.” With that, they were off, returning the way they had come, splitting up for a time, keeping to the shadows, always out of sight, before meeting up again and getting into a car. The other man remained on the bench for some time, looking out over the city. He would return to the Embassy soon. His exit was imminent. He couldn't stay after word got out. He hoped his country would receive him well.
There had been a lot of water under the bridge. But returning home to face the music was soon going to be the only option left to him. He hoped the good he had done would outweigh the rest. It was all he had to go on.

  Meanwhile, in Nigeria and South Africa, word had reached them that their team had gone missing while on the operation in England. It was clear to all that they had been captured or killed. There was to be no rescue plan, and no one would dare claim them. The British had started putting out feelers, looking for anything to connect them to someone, but as planned, their searches would come to nothing. The loss of the team was a real setback but because it was so well hidden it could not be traced back to them. Still, the Africans were on high alert. If their involvement in all this was known, they were sure the ramifications would be extreme.

  Left without any operatives in the UK at all now, with three people in Germany, all they could do was to listen in, their bugs still giving them ears on the situation, if nothing else. The three agents in Munich were aware that they were already being watched. There was no way to get them over to the UK; it would be as good as admitting they were part of the same operation. The lack of any extreme action on the British side at least meant they had time. Apparently, no one yet knew how involved they were. Since it was likely to stay that way, they would be safe. If the British knew what they'd done, surely there would have been action taken against them by now, or at the very least, some radio chatter about it. Since neither had in fact happened, the control team of the joint Nigerian/South African operation was feeling confident. While their options to influence events in London were now limited, they were satisfied that they were still in the driving seat and had been directly involved in creating a much weaker Europe.

  24

  At a joint meeting between all parties regarding national security, chaired by MI5 at Thames House, there was still no idea who was ultimately behind the attack on the hospital, which had left five people dead, plus one of the attackers. The seven remaining people, having been interrogated, had been taken by the Americans to a new terrorist holding facility, where it was hoped answers could be gained, in time. There, fewer regulations restrained the use of specific methods to break down an individual, and as it was just information they wanted, not information that was admissible in a court of law, handing them over to the Americans was deemed a necessary evil. Still, some around the table were unhappy, but it was already out of their hands.

  As big a mystery as what their motive was for the attack, was who it had been who had stopped them. Still no one had come forward, the extensive study of surveillance materials had shown nothing, and none of the seven prisoners had given any hint that it was an internal traitor. No weapon was found that had been used to shoot the eight-person team, despite an extensive search of the hospital and its grounds. It was a question that needed answering. It only made them more cautious, more aware, that there was far more to it all than met the eye. But it was impossible at that moment to understand more.

  At best, the eight-person team of various nationalities including British were mercenaries, working at a national level for the highest bidder. In their world, national allegiance changed from job to job, always available to those ready to pay for it. It was not unknown for such teams to later be paid to hunt a group for which they had just been paid to work. Loyalty was a currency they didn't work in.

  But what had gone wrong this time? How had they got so far, gone unnoticed for so long, only to get turned over at the last minute? And what was with all the documentation, making identification easy? That had been the intention, and no one would ever go into an operation like that carrying their ID on them. It just wasn't done. But someone had gone to a lot of effort to frame this team. And why leave them alive at all? They killed one guy and left the others with no fatal wounds. The head shot had been that of an expert marksman, with each leg shot aimed at downing, but not crippling, the victim. Did that mean it was an inside job after all? Was it a level of professional courtesy that had saved the other seven? But inevitably with the ID left there, it was clear they would all be taken in for questioning and not released anytime soon, if ever. So it was almost a sentence, to have kept them alive. The suffering now would be much worse than a bullet to the head might have been.

  It was a frustrating session, as more and more questions were asked around the busy table at Thames House, but few answers were readily available.

  After another coffee break, the call was put into the government, and the Prime Minister himself was fully updated on the situation, with a recommendation that the national security level is raised to the highest level. All airports and ports were put on alert. Everyone would go through the same checks, each passport scanned. Teams were put in place to track the comings and goings, each traveller given a risk assessment and the highest scores kept for questioning. It would prove to be an unpopular action, but a media blackout was also enforced. News of the extra security would only get out when people arrived back in their own countries. The team were not to know that by that time a new crisis would be underway and their complaints would get drowned out because of what was about to unfold.

  Lorna had been trying for most of the previous day to grant John's request about taking a walk outside. She had not had any success and the new day was bringing no change to the situation. It was deemed too high risk on both sides. John might see things that he wasn't ready to know. Outside the hospital, there seemed nowhere to take him that didn't show some sign of all that had happened. He would need to find that out for himself soon, but it was hoped that could wait until the last possible moment. From their side, it was an unnecessary security risk. In his room, in the confines of his small hospital bed, he was, in theory, much safer. There had been that invasion of people, the dramas of the previous week still very much etched on their minds, even if their star patient, John, was none the wiser. However, John was no fool. Unable to work out exactly what was happening, or had so recently taken place just around him, he had picked up a change in Lorna. Just something subtle, almost deep within her soul. There was a change, a sad one, and he was yet to raise the subject.

  So the team had declined Lorna's request for John to be given some time outside, though in principle the idea was a good one. Getting him walking more was indeed the direction they wanted to go, the ultimate destination they needed to reach. One long walk from John, his final one, would change the world's situation for the better, it was hoped. He remained the last chance, the sum collection of the world's eggs in this one tiny basket. And at the moment, this basket was now feeling very vulnerable. Out there, somewhere, had been people determined to kill John. They did not know if there were others out there, but they feared the answer was undoubtedly yes. Why they wanted to kill John, the last chance for salvation from this horrific situation, no one could work out.

  Having had a night to think things through, and having herself taken some time to walk and think, Lorna came back with a fresh idea that instantly had traction with the team of people when she spoke with them again. Within the hospital building, there were two enclosed courtyards, small square areas, that at some point the architects of the hospital must have thought was an excellent idea. Now they looked dated and uninviting. The trees themselves were real, two small maples filled each courtyard, with a little pond as well, which was dirty and stagnant, though once there had been some fish. Both were identical in size, twelve metres square. It wasn't much, but Lorna felt it could do. Certainly for John, who for as long as he could remember, had been in a small room. The outside courtyard would seem like the great outdoors. And would provide fresh air for the first time in weeks.

  The courtyards were at either end of the building. One was therefore too far away, and also public. But the other was near to John's current room, at the quieter and more secure part of the hospital. There were a few rooms visible from the courtyard, but it was a hospital. What would John expect? If anyone saw him, it would not be apparent who John was. No one would bother him,
of course, but John didn't need to be told why.

  Lorna left the room pleased, feeling she'd won a small victory, while at the same time speeding up the final stages of this project into which she had been placed. And yet, it was far more than a project; it was a man’s life, and his days were getting shorter. If only he knew.

  The team agreed to get straight on with preparations for the courtyard. Two members of the group left with Lorna, heading for the yard in question, making sure it was secure, and checking for any potential problems. There would be none. They agreed with Lorna, as they were going their separate ways, to let her know when John could come; when there was a window of time to walk around the courtyard. Freedom, of sorts. Lorna thanked them, and sent them on their way. She headed back to John, stopping at a store cupboard to pick up some fresh bandages and bed linen, before entering his room, a smile on her face for the first time in some days.

  “You seem happy today,” John said, closing his book and returning it to the table next to his bed.

  “And you'll be in a minute when I tell you the news.”

  “Go on,” he said, his eyes focused on her warmly and attentively.

  “You're going to get to go on a little walkabout outside, of sorts.”

  “Wow, that's great! What did you mean by the of sorts bit?”

  Lorna laughed.

  “Yeah, well, it's just a courtyard within the hospital for now, but it's fresh air and a bit of nature. As soon as you can handle it, we'll make it happen.” She felt that was the best way to say it.

  “That's good to hear. I think I am ready, but I'll wait until you think I am.”

  “I'm sure you're ready. We just need to do some more walking here. You've only managed about ten steps so far, and I don't want to cause you more damage.”

  “I just want to smell the fresh air. This room gets a bit stale after a while. No offence.”