Scar Tissue

by Ollie Ollerton

  ‘You’re not dead, then?’ he said to Abbott.

  ‘You assumed I would be?’

  ‘They brought back Nathan and another body.’

  ‘Bits of one. It was Burton.’

  ‘Ah. So you got out of the desert alive. How did you manage that?’

  ‘Yeah, funny thing, actually. Sit down.’ Abbott indicated with the barrel, pausing while Potter took a seat. It occurred to him that if this were a film, he’d be the baddie. ‘Hands where I can see them. So, yeah, there I was in the desert, Nathan just dead. Still warm in my arms.’ He held the moment a beat or so, composing himself, taking a deep breath through his nose. ‘And who should appear but my assassin, a guy called Mr Kind, would you believe. Mr too fucking Kind. Now this Mr Kind had been employed by a very rich bloke called Travis Bryars. You heard of Travis Bryars, Potts?’

  Potter shook his head slowly. His eyes flicked to his wardrobe, perhaps thinking of the gun that had been there.

  ‘No, well, Travis Bryars is a bonds trader who was the target of a surveillance operation for which Hexagon were hired. A surveillance operation that was to begin in Singapore. Hexagon used a local team who used me, which is how I know about it. Were you aware of that, the whole Singapore operation?’

  Again Potter shook his head.

  ‘Only I thought you might, being a Hexagon employee. Except, of course, you’re quite new there, aren’t you? Plus, you have overall control of the Middle East operation so maybe that’s outside your remit.’

  Potter said nothing but Abbott knew his words were landing.

  ‘So anyway. I dropped a bollock on the Singapore job.’ He picked up his glass and shook it. ‘Not only did I balls it up, but I made a right Charlie out of Travis Bryars, who went fucking ape. He employed this Mr Kind to wipe me out. Old Mr Kind did a lot of killing to get to me. A lot of killing and a lot of asking questions. He found his way to Baghdad and put a little bounty out on me, which is how come Burton and Marsh got involved. According to Marsh – right before I shot him in the face – they wanted to “maximise their profits”, which they planned to do by arranging to deliver me to Kind. Did you know anything about that?’

  Another ‘no’ from Potter. Abbott stared at him for a moment, wondering whether to believe him or not, but then let it drop.

  ‘Those “profits” they wanted to maximise, by the way, were from the sale of Executive Alliance Group to Hexagon. And you certainly knew all about that, didn’t you? In fact, let’s talk about that, because Stone didn’t turf you out of Executive Alliance Group like you told me, did he? No, the truth is that you’d already left and joined Hexagon. That night in the Country Club you told me that you were due to start there. But you already had a business card. Who has a business card for a job they haven’t even started yet?’ He slapped his own forehead. ‘How could I be so fucking dumb as to let that one go?

  ‘But you know what? I had other things on my mind back then and no reason to suspect you at the time. So I didn’t. Not until later.’

  Potter blinked.

  ‘It was you, wasn’t it? You were Stone’s man on the inside. You were the one who told him that Mahlouthi and I were responsible for Jeremy’s death. At what point did you get involved, Potts?’

  Potter took a deep breath. His eyes were level. ‘He threatened me,’ he said. ‘It was just after Jeremy’s death. I was still at Hercules. Stone got to me and told me that if I didn’t give up the kid’s killers, then I was a dead man.’

  Abbott made a scoffing sound. ‘Is that the best you can do? Fucksake. OK, look, I’m seeing an old friend for dinner so I need to hurry this up. You knew that Mahlouthi was in bed with Hercules, right?’

  Potter shook his head.

  Abbott’s mouth tightened. ‘Next time you tell me a lie I’ll put a bullet in your leg. Swear to God. Start again. You knew that Mahlouthi was in bed with Hercules, didn’t you?’

  Reluctantly, Potter nodded.

  ‘And you were the one who asked Mahlouthi to plug the leak, weren’t you? Yes or no.’

  ‘Why do you think that?’

  Abbott gave a lopsided smile. ‘Good question. I’d ask it myself if I were in your position right now. After all, why go incriminating yourself if I don’t have proof. Here—’ He picked up one of the two phones from the side table and tossed it onto the bed beside Potter. ‘That’s Stone’s phone. Good to see the two of you corresponded by text, and it’s all on there: you ratting out Mahlouthi. Ratting me out. You giving up the two guys who killed Jeremy. Details of my arrival in Baghdad. Lots of little helpful nuggets. It’s all there, mate. Jesus Christ, I hope he made it worth your while.’

  ‘And that’s how you found it, was it? Looking on the phone?’

  ‘That’s when I knew for sure. But do you know when the penny dropped? I mean, I guess I’d started to have my suspicions early doors, but it was when you were suddenly so familiar with the comings and goings at Executive Alliance Group. And then what finally did it was when you knew what Nathan looked like. I never showed you a picture of him, but you knew what he looked like all right. You knew how to press my buttons. Matter of fact, you were being told what to say to me, weren’t you? Stone was using you to puppet me. So, yeah, by the time that Stone pretended to put a bullet in you, I’d pretty much already worked it all out. But there’s still one thing I’m not sure about. You knew that Mahlouthi was in it, but how did you know to tell Stone that I was involved? Only Mahlouthi knew that.’

  ‘We went through his room afterwards. There was a note from you in there. Your number, your handwriting. You were unlucky. Most other guys wouldn’t have known your number, but I did. It was in my phone.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Abbott.

  Potter was dead-eyed, knowing there was nothing he could say now. There was a fatalistic look about him.

  ‘Presumably you told him that you had nothing to do with the stabbing?’ said Abbott.

  Potter nodded.

  ‘But of course he wouldn’t have believed you.’ Abbott gestured at the phone. ‘You told him that you’d managed to “discover” the details of the hit, but my guess is you were involved right from the start. That you were in it up to your armpits, and if I came to that conclusion, then Stone would have done, too. You were living on borrowed time, mate. Except he still needed you, didn’t he? Because once you joined Hexagon you were his man on the inside, plus you were still feeding him intel about me. Proper busy bee, weren’t you?’ He paused. ‘I’d ask why, but I think I know the answer.’

  ‘You already got there,’ said Potter. He made the money fingers. ‘Farlowe, Hexagon, EAG. The whole shit is worth tens of millions, mate.’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ said Abbott. He picked up the second phone. His phone. He pressed the speed dial button, and to the person who answered he said, ‘Contact.’ Opposite him, sitting on the bed, Potter swallowed.

  ‘All of which brings me back to Mr Kind, who was about to put a bullet in me. Before he did, though, the one thing he wanted to know was the identity of the New York party who had hired Hexagon for the surveillance job on Bryars. Now, of course, I didn’t know that. But I did remember my treacherous mate, and not the one whose bits were all over the sand around me. The other one. The one whose Hexagon business card I had in my pocket.’

  ‘I can’t tell him that. I don’t know who hired Hexagon,’ said Potter. He shrugged.

  ‘Yeah, I know, but that won’t stop him torturing you.’

  ‘He’s on his way over here now, is he?’

  ‘“Over”? No, mate, he’s on his way up now. Did you pass the bar? You’d have recognised him from his jeans.’

  Potter nodded. ‘And you’re going to let that happen? You’re going to let him torture me?’

  Abbott smiled a wintry smile. ‘I don’t even feel like I’ve started mourning Nathan yet, Potter, but I do know that I’ll be doing it for the rest of my life. I’ll be spending the rest of my life trying to make it up to myself and to his mother and to everyone else who
loved him. Of all the blood on my hands, his will never wash off. Never.’

  He raised the Glock.

  ‘I’ve got to tag one more bloke tonight, Potts. But it isn’t you.’

  There was a knock at the door. Abbott stood, collected the balloons and went to answer it. At the door stood Kind who was ready to step through, one hand already inside his jacket, suddenly taken aback as the balloons bloomed at him from the door. Abbott glanced quickly up and down the corridor, raised the gun and plugged Kind, a swift double-tap in the chest. Thk thk.

  He stepped forward and in a bustle of balloons stopped Kind from falling, sweeping an arm around him and bringing him into the room, letting the door slam shut.

  The body of Kind lay on the floor, one leg twisted up under him, a look of vague confusion and surprise frozen on his face, the look of a man whose TV remote control wasn’t where he thought he’d left it. Abbott trained the Glock on the corpse for a minute or so. The air-conditioning kicked in. And then, satisfied, he relaxed.

  He looked down at himself. Plenty of blood on his hands. Luckily, none on his clobber. Directing his attention to Potter, he raised the gun. Potter quivered, knowing the end was close, but Abbott stayed his hand. The killing had to stop. And instead he said, ‘I guess this’ll have your fingerprints on it. I’m taking it with me for insurance purposes, just in case I need it in the future. In the meantime, you’ll have to explain this little lot to the cops. I trust you’ll keep my name out of it. And nor do I want to be getting a visit from you or any other Hexagon employee in the near future, you get me? Because next time I won’t be so merciful.’

  Abbott left.

  CHAPTER 63

  Abbott arrived at Kettner’s early, took a seat and waited for Tessa to appear. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt. Numb. Drunk. In shock and yet somehow alive. It was as if he wore a mask, an Alex Abbott face mask, and the mask remained composed and blank, while beneath it the nerves and muscles of his real face twitched and writhed.

  He sank one drink quickly, called for another and made a significant dent in that, knowing he could pretend that it was his first, and all the time he tried to work out how he felt about this meeting.

  For a start, it had been called by Tess, who had said nothing about it other than that she needed to see him. It wasn’t a romantic ‘needed to see him’, he knew. Something else. She’d heard about Nathan, so he’d need to bear her sympathy, watch it bounce off his own emotional paralysis, but other than that, he didn’t know. All he knew, in fact, was that he was desperate to see her. More than ever, he needed to be saved by her. Before the void could claim him.

  And he got that, for a while, when he inhaled her scent as she enveloped him with her pity. The force of her caring awoke something within him. Her eyes, which glittered with compassion, terrified him, for what he lived most in fear of was the moment that his own grief took him. But they also reminded him that there was good in the world. Just that you had to look for it.

  They talked as they ate, skirting the subject of last time, only briefly touching on Nathan’s death. He didn’t go into details on it, and as for the future he told her he was going freelance, thinking about returning to Singapore, collecting his poor Accord from whatever pound it had been taken to.

  The thought of returning to Singapore made him close his eyes momentarily. He had first gone there with nothing, to escape his misdeeds in Baghdad. He would be returning for the same reason, only with even less. He wondered if all the old gang would still be meeting at AA. Rodney from Only Fools and Horses. The misery tourist.

  And then Tessa got to the reason why she wanted to see him. As before she’d come straight from work, only this time she reached down to a briefcase and extracted some papers, laying them face down on the table with her hand upon them, before she spoke.

  ‘You remember last time we met?’ she said, colouring a little, just a little.

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘What you told me? About your older brother.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ He heard a rushing sound in his ears, not sure he wanted to hear what might come next.

  ‘Well, something you said, about how your parents told you that he must have been swept out to sea. It didn’t ring true somehow. Either way, I looked into it.’ She was awkward, uncomfortable. She glanced down at the papers under her hand. ‘I found something.’

  ‘What is it?’ he asked, and it was as though somebody else were saying the words.

  ‘I think …’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Alex, I think that your parents lied to you.’

  ALEX ABBOTT WILL RETURN. AUTUMN 2021

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Writing Scar Tissue (in lockdown, no less!) has been a journey of discovery in more ways than one. I’d like to thank my fellow travellers, without whom none of this would be possible: the wonderful Laura and my amazing family, Matthew Phillips and Madiya Altaf at Blink, David Riding at MBA and Andrew Holmes. Thank you one and all.

  Where is your break point?

  Is it here? Facing the gruelling SAS selection process on one leg, with a busted ankle and the finish line nowhere in sight?

  Or here? Under heavy fire from armed kidnappers while protecting journalists en route to Baghdad.

  Or is it here? At the bottom of a bottle, with a family in pieces, unable to adapt to a civilian lifestyle, yearning for a warzone?

  Ex-Special Forces soldier, Ollie Ollerton has faced many break points in his life and now he tells us the vital lessons he has learnt. His incredible story features hardened criminals, high-speed car chases, counter-terrorism and humanitarian heroics.

  How do you make a commitment and achieve your goals?

  How do you end procrastination and hesitation that feeds self-doubt?

  How do you learn to be courageous in all aspects of your life?

  Ollie Ollerton knows more than his fair share about keeping going. As a recruit he survived the infamously tough SAS selection process on a busted ankle with the Directing Staff pleading with him to give up. But it’s in Ollie’s personal life that he really had to dig deep. At his lowest he was battling a failed relationship, substance abuse, depression and a reckless disregard for his own life.

  In Battle Ready, Ollie tells the story of how he turned his life around and passes on the lessons he has learned. He shares the step-by-step plan that changed his life. From finding purpose and visualising an outcome, to breaking bad habits and establishing positive new routines, his advice will help readers to overcome their own obstacles; to become ready for any battle.