by Tim Heath
“Anyway,” agent Booth said, taking her turn, the two agents working seamlessly together, never actually speaking over the other, “that would explain the kill but doesn’t tell us much more about the killer. The Americans have nothing, as ever, to share with us from the most recent incident––which leads us to the Chinese. Three diplomats left London immediately after the nuclear disaster. All three are thought to have seen, or know of, this enforcer. As you know, one is being held in Nigeria, and the other two are in China. There is an agent from Six in China, but the latest word is that he’s gone to ground.”
“Really?” Adam said. It was news to him.
“Yes, we’re in touch with him through his handler, but nothing for a day already now.”
“Do the Chinese have him?”
“We are not sure, but don’t think so. We think there would have been some communication if they did. We are certain China are looking for him.”
“It’s vital we get him out of there,” Adam said, the room in total agreement.
“Back then,” agent Riley said, “on the UK side, there was a reporter who was kidnapped and, reportedly, rescued by this enforcer. She saw nothing of the man, and we’ve already interviewed her about it. There was the nurse, Lorna. It’s unlikely she saw anything but worth a follow-up. Another angle from the UK side was with the couriers used at the time. We’ve contacted all the firms, and one name has sprung up. He made a drop to a building no business was using at the time, before disappearing soon after. We’ve traced him to Central America.”
“Good, work that angle,” Adam said before agent Booth spoke up again.
“We have. Sergio Martines drove his car off the cliff in Panama the other day in what appears to be a freak motoring accident. Reports are that he was driving at speed. No other vehicle was involved.”
“He’s dead?”
“Yes, nothing left of him, from all reports.”
“Was it an accident?”
“We’re speaking with authorities there at the moment to confirm that one, sir. You know how hard it can be getting information from these countries.” She paused before adding. “But if this enforcer was the one in Cuba just days before, Panama isn’t at all that far away. It’s not totally out of the question that they are connected.”
“How did they know we were looking?” Adam said. “How long has this list been written up?”
“We’ve been working on it over the last three days, sir,” agent Booth said.
“Get me every name that could have had access to this report. And don’t make it obvious that you are doing this for me, understood?”
Both agents nodded their agreement. They left the room. It was possible that they were part of the problem, of course, though Adam knew their rank would mean some of the most valuable information about their pursuit of this Chinese enforcer would have limited their knowledge. The mole was someone a little higher up the pecking order, which only troubled him all the more.
Derby, England
Two middle ranking agents from MI5, a man and a woman, pulled up at a pleasant semi-detached house on the edges of Derby. It was match day at Pride Park, the crowd being heard now and again in the distance. There were several cars parked nearby; clearly, locals who knew where to leave their car safely while walking the ten minutes it would take to make it to the stadium. The two agents made their way up the path to the front door, pressing the doorbell. It chimed away nicely. Feet could be heard coming down the stairs, a small boy also peering through the curtains in what looked like the lounge. The female agent standing at the door spotted him and smiled back. He hid again. Seconds later the door was opened.
“Mrs Lorna Brookes?” the woman on her doorstep asked, before bringing up some ID. Lorna didn’t know what to take in first, the name or the ID being shown to her. Clearly, it meant something.
“I haven’t been called Mrs for some time. I’ve been going by Ms since I was widowed. Anyway, who did you say you were again?” She’d opted for conversation over checking their ID. For all she knew they were from the gas company. At least they weren’t Jehovah Witnesses, or something, which was the first thing that had flashed through her mind as she’d opened the door. They usually called on Sunday mornings, when all the Christians were at church, or so it seemed. Plus they were way too young for that.
“Of course, Ms Brookes. We’re from MI5. May we have a word?”
“Yes, of course, come in,” and she opened the door wider, moving to one side before walking towards the kitchen.
“Who is it, Mummy?” came a voice hiding behind the lounge door as she walked with her two guests down the hallway. Lorna bent down and whispered something in her son’s ear before shutting the lounge door and entering the kitchen. She automatically switched on the kettle.
“Something to drink?” she asked. Being around the Security Service again, after all this time, was making her anxious.
“No, it’s okay, we don’t want to trouble you. We’ve just a few questions for you, and then we’ll be out of your way.” She didn’t bother to switch the kettle off, which was slowly working up a frenzy beside them as they spoke.
“May I ask what this is all about then?”
“We’ve just got some things to ask you about the incident. Some other angles to cover. Things that might have been missed at the time, things you might have never been asked so didn’t know it was important.” Lorna came over white and sat down. She didn’t look in the best of health if truth be told.
“How long have you lived here, Lorna?” the man said. Neither agent was coming across as threatening. That was a good sign.
“Moved up before Jonathan was born. That’s my son, and he’s watching television in the lounge. He loves cartoons. He’s five years old already. Even speaks with a local accent.” She wore a smile fitting for any mother. Some colour came to her cheeks. It was clear her son meant the world to her.
“Why did you move away?”
“You know about me, right?”
“Yes, Lorna, we have read your file,” the female agent reassured her.
“Well, then you know I needed to start a new life. Put everything behind me, leave it all as it was. I’d seen too much. London had too many memories. I couldn’t stay in the home we’d lived in together. All those memories of better times. Plus, I was pregnant. I had no idea of what danger I was putting my little boy in if I was to stay after the nuclear accident. He’s my little miracle––my world. He’s a healthy, normal little boy.”
“You never told anyone the story?”
“No, you know I didn’t. Your people made me sign the documents stating I would never publish what happened. Look, may I ask, what is this all about?” The kettle came to the boil. It defused the moment enough, Lorna turning and making herself a cup of coffee regardless of what her companions did or didn’t want.
“We’re just trying to piece together something else that happened at the time. A Chinese element that was also maybe working behind the scenes. Did you come across anyone fitting that profile, or linked to China generally speaking, back during your nursing days?”
“During the incident, you mean?”
“Yes, particularly around that time. Anyone sneaking around, asking questions they shouldn’t have been asking? Anyone watching the hospital?”
“There were plenty of people walking around where they shouldn’t have been, but nothing I recall regarding what you’re asking me about now.” She was visibly stressed. “I told everyone at the time all I remembered. I don’t see what good this is all doing now. I’m trying to get on with my life, put the past, and all its hurts and fears, behind me. I’ve got a fresh start now––my little boy. We’re happy, we are. He’s started at school now. I’ve got a job at a lovely little garden centre just down the road. I live in a community that takes time for one another. It’s like I’ve gone back in time, turned back the clock a few decades. Of course, I’m not as young as I was, and I’ve lost my husband…” She trailed off.
“After all I went through, after what I did…there was no way I could face all that again. My son needed me and, if I’m honest, I needed him. I don’t think I would have got through the years that followed if I didn’t have him. He’s been my focus, my concern. I get to pour all that nursing experience into being the best mum I can be for Jonathan. Everything else now is just second place.”
“You lost a close colleague during the attack on the hospital as well.”
“Yes, Alison was my boss, but in the weeks following the incident, those lines blurred somewhat. We grew closer than we’d ever been. She was a good friend.”
“She was killed by a group of African soldiers, a case of mistaken identity. That mistake gave us all a chance to survive, of course. What we are trying to find out is who took those eight soldiers out. Who stopped them from escaping?”
“Look, I really can’t help you there. I’ve moved on. I need you to accept that and leave me be. Please?”
The desperation was now manifesting itself on her face. She seemed spent.
“Of course, Lorna. Thank you for your time. We’re sorry, really, about everything. We’ll show ourselves out,” the female said, turning, but was followed down the hallway nonetheless by Lorna.
“Look,” Lorna said, “I’m sorry that I couldn’t be more help. I am. But I’ve given all I can give. I’ve got nothing left. Please just let us be.”
“We will,” the female agent said, not able to guarantee that would happen from her position, but it was what Lorna needed to hear. She closed the door.
“Who was that, Mummy?” her son said, running from behind the lounge door and coming up to her. She picked him up, kissing him on the cheek.
“They were just some people from the newspaper. Asking me some questions about something. They’ve gone now.”
“From the newspaper? Like Uncle John used to do?”
“Yes, Jonathan. Just like that,” and she cuddled him tightly, working to hold back the tears, burying her face instead to her son’s hair, breathing in once more his familiar smell.
8
Nigeria
It had been two days since Jianguo had had his leg broken. They had splinted it roughly with a piece of wood, but the pain was unrelenting. His information had at least stopped them beating him; a dead prisoner was no use to them at all.
They had handed him a computer. He’d been able to access some of his files, not all, but enough to show them what he had to offer. The government information was no doubt out of date, not that he was going to tell his captors that. He would let them come to their own conclusions. The Security Service information was no doubt much more valuable to them, and he made it clear what he was showing them was just the beginning. In Beijing, they had the whole lot, but he would need to contact them for that.
His three torturers were nowhere to be seen at that moment. Not that it stopped the pain. His body was raw, he’d not slept for two nights because of his leg, and his will was fading fast. He was nearly at breaking point. The pause had at least bought him some time, but he knew, on his own, he was not leaving this place alive. He needed help. Connecting to head office would enable him to at least alert them of his situation.
For Boko Haram, blinded by ideology and hate, they still saw profit in allowing him to pass them this information. Even contact back to China. If it brought another agent over to exchange the information, that would give them another prisoner, a healthy one to start tormenting all over again. They’d still end up getting what they most wanted from the Chinese, one way or the other. They were under no illusion. The real prize was always the latest power plant blueprints. Everything else was just a bonus––but what a gift. And what a way to strike back at the British, the Western devils who’d torn their country apart with their guns, planes and missiles. To be able to take down the British Security Service, efficiently silencing them around the world all at once, was an opportunity not to be missed. It would take funding, far more than they currently had. They were growing their influence in the region, though. That would bring in revenue. However, the blueprints for the power plant would bring in money untold. They would be the best-financed group in the world. They could do anything. Kill anyone. Already, there was a rise in expectation, evil men plotting what other terrors they could bestow on a world that didn’t accept them. The tide was turning. The wave would soon be blood red.
China
In Beijing, the news was quiet regarding the hunt for the missing MI6 agent. His silence told them all the Chinese needed to know. He was on the run and attempting to go to ground for the time being. The brief encounter the previous day had at least confirmed his existence, though it was not known where he was now heading precisely. They knew the hotel he was registered into, the same one where the conference was being held. To the east of that hotel was the airport, and yet he’d been chased in the north-west region of the city. The airport was apparently not his destination. Chinese agents had flooded the area. He was most certainly limited in his movements for the foreseeable future. That suited them just nicely. They’d get him sooner or later.
It was afternoon when a coded message reached the offices of the Chinese Secret Service, a large building housing hundreds of workers, each person a pair of listening ears for teams of agents spread around the world. A global network that was continually gathering information. The message received from the UK had circumnavigated the globe, finally reaching the desk of a middle-ranking intelligence officer. The signal could not have been traced.
“Full withdrawal of all key personnel now vital. British are onto us,” was all the message said once it was confirmed.
“Make it happen!” barked the General, angry for the first time in a while, annoyed that decades of work had to be destroyed, wasted, with such a pullout. The cover of most would be blown forever. “What about Tiger Cub herself? Is there any word that she is leaving? We cannot stand to lose her.”
“Sir, we have not had any further confirmation from her. We think she will stay in place until the last possible moment.”
“That probably will be too late. You know what she is like, stubborn as anything.”
“She won’t let us down. Besides, she’s in contact with this MI6 agent that is hiding somewhere nearby. She’s our best chance of catching him. The longer she stays where she is, the more chance we have of finding him.”
“At what cost?” the General said. There was a long history between him and his Tiger Cub, something not shared by anyone else in that building. He’d been central to her recruitment and development from the beginning. He thought of her as a daughter.
“There is no cost too great, sir. Not for our country.”
He wasn’t so convinced in this case, but he didn’t say so. It was clear from his face what he thought. Everyone let it pass. He was in charge, after all. No one wanted to lose an agent in the field.
Several hundred miles north-west of that building, Steve Chambers had been hiding out for the night. He’d thought about just pressing for Mongolia, trekking through the forest, avoiding the border patrol and escaping China that way. Steve abandoned that idea as the weather set in, ice-cold driving rain making travel difficult. He didn’t fancy sleeping rough in those conditions.
On the edges of the one final city between him and Mongolia, he’d come across a section of town with some small hotels and guesthouses. What he needed most was an Internet connection. It was high time he got a little outside help. Maybe they would fly someone in low and do a pick up that way. It indeed wouldn’t be the first time they’d done that over mainland China. Walking into a small guest house, he paid cash for his room. The lady behind the desk was an immigrant herself, maybe Vietnamese, maybe Korean, he wasn’t sure. What was reassuring was that she wasn’t a threat to him. He was just some Western guy stopping for the night. There would be no notifying his presence to the Secret Service. He was
safe there, for the time being, anyway. The most he’d stay was one night. Anything beyond that risked drawing attention to himself. The car he had taken could be reported at any moment, though he hoped he would be well clear before that happened. He’d assess his options before necessarily using it again––if anything, he was enjoying the game. Just like kids playing hide and seek. Except the adults in this game had guns. If they found him, he was finished.
It was late that night before Steve managed to make contact with his handler in the UK, Elizabeth Mayfield.
“Where are you exactly?” she’d asked when it was clear it was Steve contacting her once more. “I need a GPS.”
Steve checked his GPS reader and sent her a reply. She opened up a map and noted where he was currently.
“Okay, let me see who we have nearby. One moment.”
Steve read the last message and waited. The cafe he was in, paying for the Internet by the minute, was empty. He’d not found a WiFi hotspot anywhere nearby. The cafe would have to do. Two minutes later there was a further reply.
“Sending confirmation for extraction. It’s about three hours from you but will offer perfect conditions for a safe extraction. I’ll arrange pickup sometime tomorrow evening. Keep safe,” she said, before adding the GPS coordinates.
Steve entered the coordinates onto his own device, and the map showed him where to go. It seemed straightforward enough. He’d head off before sunrise. That’d give him time to double check the area before the crew arrived, just in case. He felt relieved. It was nearly over.
London
Adam Bennett was meeting with agents Booth and Riley once again. For now, it was just the three of them.
