by Tim Heath
At the back of her property, beyond the small garden and no longer actually on her land, in fact, was an entrance to steps that dropped down to a small inlet, to an outboard motor boat secured down below. It had been a contingency plan she’d never dreamed of using. The fact that the moment had come was yet to sink in really, so suddenly had it all escalated. She dropped her bag, the single collection of personal possessions that she currently had with her, into the boat and climbed behind the wheel. If she could disappear, she had money to replace everything she was leaving behind, to start life over again in some far away location. She didn’t dwell on these thoughts. It all rested on if she could get away and that was a big if.
As the police arrived at her property, the stolen car proving that she’d come to the house already, they heard the sound of a motorboat pulling away. They sent out an emergency call. The helicopter was only a minute away, and it changed course to swing over the bay. The navy was already close by; there was to be no escape.
Her capture was swift in the end. Seeing the navy vessel ahead of her, blocking any real escape, which she didn’t have a chance of outrunning anyway, she knew her time was up. The helicopter was hovering above her, a loud message demanding that she stop immediately was continually being spoken down to her, and the navy ship was closing in, maybe just five hundred metres from her small craft. She cut the engines. Better prolong the time it would take them to get to her, buying her a few extra seconds. Seconds that she’d put to good use before her inevitable capture. And what a catch she would make. She knew the British would gloat over her, though there would also be plenty of anger and calls of betrayal. She was prepared for all that, had been ever since first arriving, when capture and torture seemed far more likely. It was only the passage of time that had lessened the threat. The longer she got away with it, the more invincible she felt. Again that pang of conscience that wondered if she’d got too far ahead of herself if she’d brought this on herself by becoming careless?
She had about a minute before the navy would arrive. Opening up a satellite phone, she typed a message into it, sending it before throwing the device into the sea. If they wanted to find it, they’d have to search hard. The communication sent to eyes only in Beijing just said:
“I’m blown, British now have me. Send for him. He’ll know what to do.”
Washington DC – USA
Adam Bennett had travelled alone from London, leaving his MI6 staff to clean up the mess left behind following the week’s events. He was still awaiting news on Elizabeth’s capture as he had boarded the flight from London some seven hours before. He was buried in conversation with the Deputy Director when he was handed the news for which he had been waiting.
“Roy, this was the confirmation I’ve been expecting,” he said, once they were alone again. “We’ve arrested Elizabeth Mayfield.”
“That’s good to hear at last, Adam. Good work. Where will you keep her? How long before we can get to her and ask our questions?” Roy had cleared the table of the two cups that had been there as he spoke. Adam could read the signs.
“Look, we’ve some way to go before I can give you anything concrete on that one, Roy, you know how it is.”
“Just don’t forget us. That comes right from the top, Adam. She’s made a fool of us, too. We need to understand what she’s passed on to them about us. She also caused the death of all nine men we sent to pick up your man in China, don’t forget. There’ll be a criminal case for her to face on that one alone.”
“Join the queue,” Adam said a smile on his face. He wasn’t about to make this an issue. The British would do everything in their interest, though they needed the Americans onside, so there was no need to come across as overprotective and secretive all of a sudden. It wouldn’t help matters at all. He was here to win favours not raise barriers. There was still a long way for them to go in their discussions.
“Look, Roy, getting back to the bigger picture, this situation in Nigeria isn’t going to go away. Boko Haram has gained a grip on large parts of the country. The Nigerian government has lost control of these sections totally, the army often refusing to even face the militants for fear of the threats made to their families if they do fight. The information that we saw pass through Saleem Ahmed could only have come from the Chinese man they took hostage over a month ago. Either he’s leaking the information, or the Chinese are trading it for his release, though there are no obvious signs that the latter is true.”
“So what’s their game? Why is China even siding with these terrorists? Why now?”
“Roy, I don’t think the Chinese are siding with anyone, nor are they our biggest concern right now.”
“Not a concern? Do I need to remind you of the men we recently lost to these very Chinese? Not to mention the state they left your country in this last decade. Word is you are infiltrated at every level. Leaks all over the place.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear, Roy. You know how it goes.”
“You can hardly take that line when someone we’ve both shared confidential information with, more than once, is now in custody, exposed as a double agent for the Chinese!”
“Look, I’m not suggesting that the situation is perfect, far from it in fact. Man, we’ve been betrayed at the highest level for too long. I’m just saying, from a security point of view, the Chinese are not currently our chief concern. It’s what is happening right now in northern Nigeria that is most pressing. If, for example, the Chinese trade them the plans for the power plant, the resources of this militant group would skyrocket. They’d equip every Jihadist group on the planet with their licence to print money. The war would escalate to a global scale with no way of containing it.”
“So what are you saying? Should we invade Nigeria? Isn’t that why we are in this situation in the first place? Do you want us to do properly what your old government were too inept at doing themselves five years ago?”
“I’m not here to talk politics. You know that, Roy. All I’m saying is this situation is easily more contained in its current format. One location, everything in one place. We could shut it all down before anything gets shared. As soon as it’s known what Boko Haram has, it’ll go global. The others will come running, demanding the same access. And from what we can tell, they’ll happily oblige. It is their ticket to the top table, and they’ll make every use of it. There has been chatter of Boko Haram joining Daesh for some time already. This would seem the perfect ticket, not as ones submitting to a higher power, but as equal partners.”
“You think that would even stick? Could these groups work together?”
“I don’t know. Does it matter? Do we ever want it to get that far? One thing’s for sure, if we leave this alone, it won’t go away. And it won’t stay in Africa, either. It’ll come to our shores. Yes, to us in Europe first, but it’ll also come to America. There would be no stopping them. You know it, your intel has been reporting this for ages.”
There was no way he could deny it. The US was becoming concerned with events in Africa.
“Look, I know the White House is cautious about sending more American troops to other countries, especially Africa. It’d be a hard sell. But I also know our guys and the CIA are greatly concerned. We do see where you are coming from. But I think you’re going to have to give us more time, especially as you aren’t proposing to go in yourself. We need more solid intel to go on. Having access to Elizabeth might give us that. It’d be in both our interests if we got to her soon. Do you think you can arrange that?”
Adam could see he’d walked into that one and there was no real chance of escape.
“Look, Roy, I promise I’ll do my best. We have to follow our internal procedure throughout the investigation, of course. But as soon as that’s done, I’ll make good on that request. Okay?”
“Okay,” he said, standing up and shaking hands with Adam as he led him to the door. They’d been longer than they planned, the American having several other meetings to attend to that morning, thou
gh Adam’s trip had been a priority, given the circumstances, and Roy felt pleased that he’d come out with his main request in the forefront of Adam’s mind. Adam too felt pleased. He’d successfully, as he saw it, laid out the idea of an American military response into northern Nigeria, into the very heart of Boko Haram territory. There was still some way to go, but if giving them Elizabeth, after they’d finished with her, would be a means to that end, they’d do it without a second thought.
Chinese Secret Service Communications Centre, Beijing
Seventy technicians sat along a bank of computers that covered one whole side of a large room. Side by side they made an impressive sight, each with headphones on, each listening and processing information that was coming through their systems. A giant screen on the wall above showed a map of the world, different colours meaning different things. To the untrained eye, it didn’t seem to make much sense.
The message from England came through to a female technician sitting towards the centre of the row of workers, not that their position had anything to do with their role. She stood up and handed the message to her supervisor, before returning to her seat and carrying on as before.
The supervisor studied the note, before taking it to a separate office that ran along another wall, one of several such rooms, reserved for the most senior people. She handed the note to the lady in the office, before leaving, no words spoken between the two of them.
Sitting there, a cup of green tea beside her on the maple desk, Yanmei scanned the message, taking in where it was from and the agent’s code name used. She fully understood it instantly. She picked up the phone.
“It’s me. We’ve heard from her. She’s been captured. She’s asked us to send him to free her. Where is my brother at the moment?”
There was a slight pause on the line, a briefest of silence that gave away the thought process no doubt happening at that moment. Was Elizabeth worth the risk?
“I’ll be in touch,” the General said, before hanging up the phone.
Yanmei took the final mouthful of tea, savouring the flavour before swallowing it and then stood up from her desk, pacing around a little. She instinctively held a charm on a necklace that hung around her neck, something she always did when she was thinking or concerned, just playing with it between her fingers. She hadn’t seen her brother in some time. She didn’t even know where he now was, operational procedure limiting only the General to his precise location. She was, however, one of only a small handful of people who knew of his existence which was some little comfort, strangely.
19
South East England & London
With their boss in Washington still speaking with the Americans, Peter and Lucy were heading up the MI6 procedure in the UK following the capture of Elizabeth. It was not something the police would be involved in, and it was way above their level of jurisdiction. And it was now very personal. Peter had had some contact with Elizabeth down the years, Lucy much less, but still they were senior enough within the Service to have been aware of her role and input for a long time. Lucy had been a fan of hers from as soon as she became aware of who she was, seen as a woman with huge influence, an example to be followed. The fact it was this same person, her heroine, that had turned out to be the traitor, only made it more sickening.
With the navy boarding Elizabeth’s vessel, the fact that they’d caught her alive was a huge boost. Thankfully, gone were the days of the Cold War when an agent would instead bite down on a capsule of cyanide than risk capture. But it wouldn’t have surprised them, and they were pleased she came in without any more of a fight. She wasn’t even holding a weapon.
The helicopter that had been obtained to search for Elizabeth was then used to follow the convoy as the prisoner was transported up from the beach area, back through the streets of the unsuspecting little seaside town, en route to London. Three police cars joined the blacked out transit van where Elizabeth was seated, locked in place with two heavy chains. They wanted her to feel the reality of the situation. To some degree it worked, though Elizabeth was surprisingly calm throughout. She had not said a word, nor had she been spoken to. Peter could barely bring himself to even look at her. It was as if suddenly he realised he didn’t even know her anymore. Had he ever truly? Following the police convoy at a discreet distance was another unmarked van, a police firearms unit inside, who’d been called in on the original pursuit and were following the prisoner to London as a final precaution.
Once they had cleared through Weymouth, it would take them just under three hours to reach central London. Getting through the traffic was not a problem with the police assistance, and they made it in good time, the whole journey taking just over two and a half hours in the end, and they arrived at their location without incident. Elizabeth had not been brought to MI6 headquarters, but to an interrogation centre where all prisoners were kept. It didn’t appear on any search engine, it was off the grid, despite being in a densely populated part of the city centre. It wasn’t a place about which the British wanted anyone to know. Every nation had the same type of facility. The British knew where many of their counterparts’ ones were. A few foreign agencies even reportedly had their own safe houses in London.
The van was driven into the courtyard, the metal gate closing immediately behind them as they entered the twenty-metre square space and it pulled to a halt. There was silence for a moment before the back of the van opened. Peter himself climbing inside and then proceeded to unlock the prisoner. He helped Elizabeth out of the rear of the truck.
“Tell me, Beth, why did you do it?” he said, the first words he’d spoken to her since her capture. She looked up at him, brief eye contact made, memories no doubt flashing through her mind of their interactions over the years, but no words came out of her mouth. She soon lowered her head and after a moment’s pause, Peter himself realising she was shutting down, and she was led inside. She was placed straight into an interview room, a camera on the wall recording everything from the moment she was directed into the small space. She was then left by herself, alone with her thoughts, as Peter exited the room and then there was just silence.
“Get us some drinks, would you,” Peter said as he shut the door. He wasn’t going to be involved in the first interview itself, though he had the option of sitting in on further ones. Peter wasn’t yet sure if he could bring himself to do that. Like many men before him, he’d liked Elizabeth, so it felt personal as much as anything else. It was hard even to look her in the face now and see the same person he’d once known and liked.
It had been the end of a long day of interviewing. Elizabeth had herself said very little, the questions fired at her from a host of different people, all former colleagues, though mainly people she’d not personally come across. That was deemed the best way to proceed. Peter had opted to sit the first day out. He knew he wouldn’t have been able to control himself. With such a high profile prisoner, anything he’d do wrong would become known by his seniors very quickly. Best leave it to the experts, who could at least be a little more impartial, a little less emotionally involved, though the outcome would be the same. She was going down for this for a very long time. The Americans were waiting in the background somewhere, first in line for their turn, though the British were not giving any clear indication as to when that might be. They had a long way to go themselves before they would let anyone else, even their closest allies, get at her.
The latest interrogator sat before Elizabeth. She knew the history, knew the rumour, but had only been with the prisoner for twenty minutes. She’d just been in the background for the day so far, watching, waiting, reading her opponent like a prize fighter would. She’d seen Elizabeth dodge heated questioning and at no point during this latest interview, nor throughout the whole of that day, did she ever smile. Not one smile had been let out, no gloating about what she had done. As if to smile would have been to give something away. Maybe she reasoned, probably correctly, that to come across smug, or proud at all, would not have helped her si
tuation one bit. Perhaps that was why Elizabeth, once the pride of the British Security Service, now sat there looking rather ordinary, fallen but not yet looking defeated. Still, there was something she was holding out on. This latest interrogator could sense it, reading it in the way Elizabeth moved her head as if waiting for that question, or that offer, or something, to happen. As if she knew something the others didn’t.
Yes, they now knew she was a traitor. Now knew she’d been spying on the British for many years, a double agent for the Chinese. They knew she’d been planted so well many years ago that she’d been given free rein within MI6, circulating much further than she ever should have been allowed. She just seemed right for the job, the bright new face of MI6. Who wouldn’t have opened doors for her? They knew all this about her, the connections she now had, and had equally betrayed, with other agencies around the world, including at the top of that list, the CIA. There was little they didn’t know, and yet what was she now holding out, what was worth so much more to her that she could just sit there, beaten, fallen, exposed but holding out? She was still withholding something, more than any smile. It was time to find out.
“Beth, can I call you Beth? That is what your friends have been calling you, isn’t it?”
“Twenty minutes alone together and you think we are friends already?” Still, no smile came from her face, despite the apparent attempt at humour. Elizabeth was ice-cold.
“I think we could have been friends, yes. From what I hear, you made a lot of friends. Of course, you’ve now made even more enemies. But I guess you knew that was coming one day.”
“You think a lot of yourself, don’t you?”
The interviewer shuffled in her chair for a moment, a little thrown by the suggestion, before regaining her countenance.
