Scar Tissue

by Ollie Ollerton

  ‘And how would I do that?’

  ‘Intelligence have agreed that if you give your word not to get involved, then you can come along as an observer on the SF incursion. That’s all though, just as an observer. You can be there first-hand to see that Nathan’s extraction is handled correctly. And in the meantime, you’re to stay away from the Executive Alliance Group building – you’re not even to enter the Green Zone. What do you think?’

  ‘I have a condition,’ said Abbott after a while.

  ‘Look, mate, they’re already …’

  ‘You pass it on. It has to be met or it’s no deal.’

  ‘Fire away.’

  ‘Their SF incursion has to happen within the next forty-eight hours.’

  ‘OK, I can ask. In the meantime, I have your word that you’ll stand down?’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Abbott. ‘You have my word.’

  Cuckoo paused. ‘One thing: why would Stone want Nath? Is it some kind of reprisal for what happened to Jeremy Robinson?’

  ‘I don’t know, mate,’ lied Abbott. ‘I had nothing to do with any of that.’

  He ended the call, knowing that nothing of what he’d just said mattered a damn.

  It didn’t matter because right at the start of the conversation Cuckoo had cleared his throat twice.

  CHAPTER 49

  ‘For the next forty-eight hours I need a constant watch on Executive Alliance Group. I need to know everything that goes on. Do you think you can do that?’

  Abbott was sitting in the Country Club in the Green Zone, opposite Potter, who was looking at him carefully, almost as though checking him out. Unsurprising, really. On the drive over, Abbott had caught sight of himself in the rear-view and it wasn’t a pretty sight. He’d flashed his pass at the coalition cop on entry and steeled himself for instant rejection but was waved through. Clearly Military Intelligence hadn’t got their arse in gear to blacklist him yet.

  Military Intelligence, he’d thought. No doubt they had Cuckoo by the balls. They’d be threatening him with the loss of his job, brandishing the Official Secrets Act at him. They probably had a picture of the Queen and Winston Churchill handy, so that Cuckoo could be in no doubt that he was expected to do his patriotic duty.

  Even so, and despite whatever threats or inducements they tossed at him, there was a good chance that Cuckoo was fully on board with the idea that Abbott should wait and join the SF team. Trouble was, neither Whitehall nor Cuckoo knew what Abbott knew, which was that Stone was one step ahead and he wouldn’t be hanging around in the Green Zone for long.

  Just a question now of staying on top of the situation.

  And still Potter looked at him, because, aside from Abbott looking a sight – bedraggled, tired and desperate – if the story of the mirror was to be believed, it was an extraordinary request. ‘I’m sort of waiting to hear what’s in it for me,’ said Potter carefully. He sipped at his drink, perhaps doing so pointedly, since Abbott had drained his in one long draught.

  ‘Is it still a going concern?’ he’d asked.

  ‘What? Since Stone bought the farm?’ said Potter. ‘Yeah, sure. CEO’s dead but life goes on. He had a good number two, a guy by the name of Marsh. Tom Marsh. More than capable of running the show.’

  Abbott held up a hand to stop him. ‘What does he look like, this Tom Marsh? Goatee beard?’

  Potter shook his head. ‘Not that I’ve ever noticed. Probably not the droid you’re looking for. But he is a good second-in-command and capable of running things. Look, there’s way too much money swimming about for anything to stop the gravy train. You should have hung around. You’d be a very rich man right now.’

  Yeah. Shouldawouldacoulda.

  Potter took a belt of his drink. ‘You didn’t think Stone was dead, last time I spoke to you.’

  ‘Still not entirely sure,’ fibbed Abbott, ‘which is why I’m hoping you could keep an eye on his hideout for me.’

  ‘His hideout now, is it?’

  ‘It’s where I’d hide if I were him.’

  ‘You think he’s something to do with Nathan?’

  ‘Point is, I’m asking for help, Potts,’ said Abbott bluntly. ‘Not the first time, and it may not be the last. Can’t pay you, can’t even promise to do anything for you right now, what with having a bunch of other stuff on my plate, but what I can say is that any time in the future you need me you only have to call. I’ll be back in Baghdad faster than you can pick up a penguin.’

  ‘I won’t be in Baghdad,’ said Potter. ‘Plan is to move back to London. I’ve got the job. Even got a business card. Just arrived this morning, actually. Just packing things up here and I’ll be moving back.’

  ‘What’s the job?’

  Potter reached to a pocket of his shirt, withdrew a business card and tossed it across the table to Abbott. ‘Hexagon,’ said Abbott, thinking, What are the chances? and pushing the card into the back pocket of his cargo pants.

  ‘You heard of them?’

  ‘We’ve had dealings. Nothing direct.’

  ‘Great. Well, maybe I could put a bit of business your way. Then again …’ He tailed off, eye falling to Abbott’s empty glass.

  Abbott waved the moment away. ‘Look, can you help me or not?’

  Potter took a deep breath. ‘You’re a persuasive guy,’ he said. Abbott said nothing. He kept his face neutral. ‘I’ll do it. I mean, look, it won’t be me on duty; I’ll have to use help, but I’ll put somebody on it.’

  ‘OK,’ said Abbott. ‘It’s a deal.’

  ‘I should fucking think it’s a deal.’

  ‘I need to know anything that happens. Any kind of activity.’

  ‘What are we looking out for in particular?’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘And do I need to watch out for any other parties?’

  ‘Military Intelligence.’

  Potter reared back. ‘You’re fucking joking.’

  ‘It’s all right, they won’t have men on the ground, it’s all eye-in-the-sky stuff.’

  ‘Even so.’

  ‘Mate, you’ll be well clear.’

  Potter raised his head. ‘So Intelligence have taken an interest in you, then?’

  ‘Could say that.’

  ‘Well, don’t look now – I said don’t look now, but a couple of cops have just walked in.’

  ‘Cheers, mate, that’s my cue to leave quick-smart.’ Abbott disguised it as a joke between mates, when he leaned forward, grabbed Potter’s drink and drained it, but really he just wanted the drink.

  He escaped the Green Zone and paid his hotel a visit, intending to collect his things. There he was waylaid by the receptionist, a guy he knew of old. ‘Mr Abbott.’

  ‘Hey, Ahmed.’

  ‘Please,’ said Ahmed, ushering him to the side of the desk, where he pretended to show him a dog-eared tourism leaflet. ‘A man was in here looking for you,’ said Ahmed.

  ‘Did he by any chance have white hair?’

  Ahmed’s eyes widened. He nodded.

  ‘Did he offer you money?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ahmed.

  ‘Did you take it?’

  ‘I did.’

  Abbott cleared his throat, not sure whether to be amused or outraged. ‘OK, well, I guess that’s fine. Um … what did you tell him?’

  ‘I told him that I didn’t know where you were,’ Ahmed lowered his voice, ‘even though I saw Mr Mahlouthi’s man, Tommy, who told me.’

  ‘OK, well, thank you.’ Abbott nodded. ‘I appreciate that. ‘But look, don’t mess with this guy, OK? He means business. He comes back, you call me, OK?’

  Outside his room, Abbott drew his sidearm and then let himself in quickly, sweeping the room by the numbers. Nothing. No sign of entry or of a search, but that didn’t mean the guy hadn’t been in. He knew what he was doing, this guy, and Abbott knew he should be more worried.

  CHAPTER 50

  He’d been putting it off, but things had gone too far. The situation could change at any second. He ha
d to call her.

  So on the journey back to Mahlouthi’s villa, he parked near a rusting, bombed-out lorry that sat in a blackened hollow – a hollow that had long since moved from its original designation of ‘bomb crater’ to ‘rubbish dump’ – and he checked around himself, pulled out his phone, scrolled to her number and called.

  ‘Alex,’ she said, when she answered, a note of panic in her voice right from the offset. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

  ‘Nothing, Fi,’ he said, ‘no news just yet.’

  ‘Oh.’ She made a noise that was somewhere between relief and frustration. She probably wasn’t sure herself, knowing only that all she wanted was for the phone to ring with news, and for that news to be good.

  ‘Is Alan there?’ he asked.

  ‘He’s in the other room, flaked out in front of the TV. I can wake him. Do you need to speak to him?’

  He imagined Cuckoo back in his comfort zone, and for once he didn’t think of him with scorn. Alan had handled himself well over the last week or so. ‘Actually, it’s you I need to speak to.’

  ‘Me? Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘All right. Fire away.’

  ‘How much has he told you?’

  ‘Alan? He’s told me that everything’s in hand. That SF are getting ready to go in and rescue Nathan. That’s right, isn’t it? He’s not trying to fucking soft soap me, is he?’

  Despite everything, he found himself smiling. She still had the vocabulary of a particularly foul-mouthed navvy. ‘No, that’s about the size of it, but, look, there are a lot of ifs and buts involved. You know that we think Stone is behind all this, yes?’

  ‘Yes, but we don’t know why,’ she said, with a half-question, half-warning in her voice. ‘Why would he be doing this to Nathan, Alex?’

  ‘I don’t know, but if you think it’s personal, then I think you’re probably right.’

  ‘Christ’s sake, have you brought this on us?’ Her voice rose. ‘Because if you fucking—’

  ‘No.’ His voice was sharp. He needed to nip this in the bud right now. Needed to get down to business. ‘This is not on me, Fi.’

  ‘Well it’s on fucking somebody and I know it’s not on me.’

  ‘Let’s not get into it. It’s not why I’m calling anyway.’

  She seemed to calm. ‘Go on, then. Why are you calling?’

  ‘It might go off before the SF team is in place. I need your blessing that if it does, I can move.’

  ‘Well, you don’t have it. I’m told that you’ve given your word you’ll wait for them to move in. That they’ve even allowed you to come along as an observer as a matter of courtesy.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, but these people don’t know Stone like I do; they’re not as familiar with the situation as I am. It could be that I need to go in before they’re ready.’

  ‘It sounds to me like you’re saying you think that’s going to happen.’

  ‘It’s why I’m ringing, Fi. I’m not going to sit back and let shit go down that endangers Nathan.’

  ‘And what “shit” might that be?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I’m not keen on letting Stone take his time to prepare for an attack. I’m not keen on giving him time to show a clean pair of heels. And I don’t like the idea of a team going in because, SF or not, hostages die in situations like that.’

  She caught her breath. He hadn’t mean to be that blunt, but there you go.

  ‘Are you still drinking?’

  ‘What did Alan tell you?’

  ‘He was vague.’

  ‘This is Nathan we’re talking about, Fi. He takes priority.’

  ‘Look, no, I want you to wait for SF. Whatever happens, you wait. Because if anything – fucking anything – happens to Nathan because of some stupid shit you do, I swear to God—’

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Point made. Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll be seeing you, Fiona.’

  Finishing the call, he sat for a moment in the baking-hot interior of the Merc. Well, that didn’t go well. They’d fallen out over every other minor shit in their marriage. Of course they were going to disagree over how best to extract their son from a hostage situation.

  But maybe it wouldn’t come to that, he thought. Maybe he could wait for SF to make their move, and everything would go smoothly. He could only hope. For that, and to be reunited with Nathan. To have another chance at being a better father.

  CHAPTER 51

  Abbott had only been back at Mahlouthi’s villa for a couple of hours when the phone rang. It was Potter. ‘Something going on at Executive Alliance Group, according to my man on the ground,’ he said.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Activity. Lots of tooled-up guys moving around. Trucks being manoeuvred into place. Hang fire. I’m going to take a drive around there myself.’

  ‘We’re on the move,’ Abbott told Burton as he came off the phone, going on to slightly fillet what Potter had told him.

  ‘It could be anything, mate,’ said Burton. The pair of them were fully awake now, alert and looking to their weapons. ‘I mean, fuck me, but our boy Stone has been building up quite the little empire, you know. Might just be an operation.’

  ‘Sure,’ replied Abbott. ‘Could just be carrying out a job. Maybe they’re making funeral arrangements for their dear, departed boss. Or maybe they just know the jig is up and they’re on the move. And if that’s the case, then they’ve caught Intelligence on the hop.’

  Abbott was checking his weapons, readying himself for roll-out when the phone rang again. It was Potter. ‘I’m outside now. No doubt in my mind, something’s definitely going on, and it doesn’t look like your average day at the office.’

  ‘OK,’ said Abbott, slinging his assault rifle over his shoulder. ‘Describe what you see.’

  ‘Well, a bit ago the big roller door opened and they rolled out an army lorry. Some old-looking World War II shizz. It’s parked. And now we have EAG stooges loading it up. Boxes of God knows what, weapons and ammo, plus office stuff.’

  ‘We’re on our way,’ replied Abbott. No doubt about it: Executive Alliance Group were on the move. They were shuttering the business. He waved at Burton and the pair of them began hurrying through the villa.

  ‘The first lorry has moved off,’ relayed Potter as they went.

  ‘Do you see Stone?’

  ‘Stone? What? I’m looking for zombies now?’

  ‘Well, yeah, as I’m working on the assumption that he still walks among us.’

  ‘OK, well, I don’t see Stone,’ replied Potter. ‘Nobody I can put a name to so far. Looks like he’s been busy hiring since I was an employee. Just regular security drones. Wait. You remember the number two I was telling you about? Marsh? He’s there.

  And hey.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Turns out he does have a goatee beard. Looks like he really is the droid you’re looking for.’

  Made sense, thought Abbott. Inside he felt a tight, coiling feeling, thinking. This was the guy who took Nathan. Then Potter was saying, ‘Oh, crap.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s Nathan.’

  Abbott had been about to enter the garage, Burton at his heel, but he stopped, the breath catching in his throat. Something struck him. Something other than the Nathan sighting. But he put it to one side for the time being. ‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘Tell me what you see?’

  ‘It was just a glimpse. He’s in the back of the second truck. Heavily guarded. He seems all right, but …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Looks like he might have been drugged. He looks zonked out. Seems to need support.’

  Haloperidol, thought Abbott. Twenty milligrams. Knocks the patient into near-catatonia. It’s what he’d use to move a motivated prisoner like Nathan. It’s what Stone would use.

  But still. It struck Abbott that for the first time he knew beyond a doubt that Nathan was alive and well. How Nathan was so close now, almost within his grasp, and it was as though the wire c
oiled tight round his insides relaxed for an instant – and then tightened again.

  ‘He’s gone,’ relayed Potter. ‘Out of sight. And, my friend, the trucks are on the move.’

  ‘We’re on it,’ confirmed Abbott. He and Burton were clambering into a Land Cruiser, and in moments were racing up the ramp of Mahlouthi’s garage and into the street, Burton wrestling with the wheel.

  ‘Can you follow them?’ asked Abbott over the noise of the roaring Land Cruiser engine, Burton cursing and shouting at unwary pedestrians. ‘Just until we’re in place and have visual contact?’

  ‘Roger that,’ said Potter, ‘I—’ And then he stopped.

  Abbott listened. Something was wrong, he could tell. ‘Mate, what is it?’

  At the other end of the line, Potter took a deep breath. ‘Well, you know you asked me if I could see Stone?’

  ‘Roger that.’

  ‘Well he’s in my rear-view mirror. And the reason he’s in my rear-view mirror is because he’s got in the back seat. Oh yeah, and he’s holding a gun to my head.’

  Abbott closed his eyes. In the driver’s seat Burton looked quickly across at him, sensing something big was up.

  ‘Let me speak to him,’ said Abbott.

  ‘He wants to speak to you,’ said Potter.

  ‘Who’s that, then? Not my old mate, Monk. Here, give us the phone, let me have a word with him. Hello, Monk? Here, listen, I’ve got something to tell you. You know how we called you Monk? I bet you always thought it was because your name’s Abbott, dintcha? It wasn’t, you know. It was cos you was always drunk as a monk.’

  Abbott’s jaw clenched. He had one hand braced on the dash of the Cruiser as it clattered over the cratered streets. He held the phone to his shoulder, saying to Burton, ‘Stone’s got Potter.’

  ‘So we head for the Green Zone and get him,’ said Burton.

  ‘No,’ said Abbott. ‘We head for the Green Zone, but to intercept the trucks. Potter can take care of himself.’

  ‘Jesus, mate, that’s cold,’ said Burton, but Abbott said nothing. Instead he removed his thumb from the phone to talk to Stone once more. ‘So you decided to close up the old place, eh?’ he said.