Shades of Loyalty

by Paul Stretton-Stephens

  Abi paused, looked around and asked, “Any questions so far?”

  The group remained silent.

  “Okay, we’ll continue. It should be noted that the officer investigating the incident appears to have been indirectly forced into handing over the case to someone new. I should say that this is a pattern that has emerged throughout, without exception. All of the initial investigating officers in charge of all the incidents have reassigned their cases to someone new. We believe this not to be a coincidence. After a countermeasure sweep of the Willows area, a camera device was discovered underneath the overhang of a lamppost outside the nursing home. We don’t know how long this was there but suspect that it was still active whilst investigating officers were on the scene. It is therefore possible that the perpetrators have been using facial recognition software and have access to all of the police databases of personnel. There is one other development at the nursing home and I’ll let Bernie tell you that.”

  Bernie stepped forward.

  “I’ve been checking the people at the nursing home. There was one ex-armed robber who died in the blast, and the only person of any significance that is linked to one of the residents is Mary Harker, Member of Parliament for the constituency of Strelley. It appears that the nursing home had entered her mother’s maiden name incorrectly on admission. I’m now in the process of tracing the life of Mary Harker. Should any of you come across any information that could input into this during your activities, please let me know as soon as possible.”

  “Did the mother of Mary Harker come to harm in the blast?” Dom asked.

  “I’m afraid that she lost an arm. She has been relocated to an undisclosed location. We’ve asked the local force to provide discrete protection at this stage as a precaution. And we’ve done the same for Mary Harker.”

  Abi continued.

  “Okay let’s move on to the train incident in Devon. Fi has been down to investigate, and the only real lead we have from there is a retired colonel, George Anderson, who is a railway enthusiast these days. He’s a widower and has been retired a couple of years. However, in his last few years of service he had a desk job in the MOD. We are looking to see if there are any connections.”

  Once again, Abi paused to punctuate her delivery.

  “Now, that takes us to the hospital incident in Hampshire, and once again Fi has made a visit here. Regarding the hospital and Dr Dean, there appears to be no significant controversy that is out of the ordinary. It is difficult to determine a motive at this stage and, in addition to the CT’s assessment and ongoing investigation, we are looking into the doctor himself, his personal life, his work life, and some of the extended activities that he has volunteered for, such as working groups, advisory groups et cetera. Now, the boss has been dealing directly with the Russian incident in Spain so I’ll ask him if he’ll brief everybody.”

  Jago placed his bone china cup and saucer down on the desk and walked forward.

  “Right, we had intel, thanks to Dom and his team, to suggest that our x-rays had purchased explosives and other items from a couple of known arms dealers. One of those arms dealers was a Croydon-based lowlife named Rafa. He turned out to be Raphael Serrano, wanted in Spain for some heinous crimes, not least: racketeering, extortion, prostitution, et cetera. Once located, I paid him and his friends a visit, and he gave us the name of his Spanish connection. It turns out that Rafa arranged for the Russian to be killed instead of payment.

  “Rob was initially tasked to go to Spain to investigate. However, he was held up in Turkey, so I took his place. By the way, it looks as though Rob will remain on Cousins’ team for the duration. To cut a long story short, we managed to detain the named person, one Diego Castella. While on the way to custody he was shot and wounded, and his gang leader, along with some other members, attempted to storm the hospital to finish him off. The gang leader was detained and questioned, and as a result of that, we can place one of our x-rays in Colombia about two years ago in a Special Forces role against the drugs cartels. He was working alongside the Colombian cousin of the gang leader, and they called the target ‘Star Wars’. We are currently scouring the postings in that region for all special advisers, trainers, joint operations, et cetera. We’ll let you know as soon as we hear something.

  “Another arms dealer, Sir Arthur Green, has been interviewed, and as a result, we are now looking into the activities of one Irene Grimshaw of the Grimshaw commercial shipping line. Evidently, Ms Grimshaw is not whiter than white. She is involved in some fairly murky deals. Dom, I want you to visit Ms Grimshaw, but before you go, speak with Abi and she’ll give you a complete update on her and her dealings.”

  “Sure will, Boss, no problem.”

  “Let’s now turn our attention to Orenid Finance. We managed to obtain a full list of investors, including the silent ones, and we’re still running it through our systems to see if there are any links. Now, here’s one piece of information I want you to know and understand. Our countermeasures team swept the sites of all of the incidents, and it appears that our targets had placed some remote cameras on at least three of the incident sites: the nursing home, the tree felling and the hospital. It is through these measures that we believe they have identified the investigating officers. Abi mentioned this earlier, and I want to stress that it seems they also have other methods and access to service and police records. What is now very clear is that all investigating officers who initiated the investigations have had some reason to be removed from the cases and they have been passed on to somebody else. This is apparently a deliberate strategy to throw the investigators off the scent and buy time for our x-rays. We should not underestimate their capabilities at this time. We do not know how many of them there are but can assume that their activities could have been carried out by as few as two people. One could be a technical specialist while the other an operational Special Forces specialist. Having mined all of the usual criminal databases, et cetera, nobody has come to the surface, which leads us to believe that they are unknown yet capable and highly motivated.

  “As for their motivation, well, to be honest, we just don’t know at this stage. The psychological profile suggests that we are dealing with highly-trained individuals with multiple intelligences. Link that with the Colombian connection and we have at least one very specialised and dangerous individual to deal with. Let’s not forget that five people lost their lives, twenty-seven have suffered life-changing injuries, and one hundred and five have suffered minor injuries. And on top of that, we’re getting very close to the 24th and 25th of the month, and at this point have no idea where they will strike next, or why.”

  Jago paused, allowing the information to be absorbed.

  Abi spoke up. “Boss, can I just say that I checked out the MPs in whose constituency the incidents occurred, and none of them are linked regarding working parties, common interest groups or committees. Only two are in the same political party. So far, there is no obvious link.”

  “Thanks, Abi. That’s good to know. So that everybody knows, Bernie and Abi have been working flat out using the new Hot Brain software. As soon as we have results, we will let you all know.

  “Fi, I’d like you to get in touch with your Special Forces buddies, see what you can find out. Someone must know something; someone must be helping him … assuming it is a he? And access the attendance records for the up and coming black hat white hat conference, you know the ethical and non-ethical hackers’ party. Someone involved has some high-level technological skills, and it’s at these events that they like to show them off or learn more from others.”

  “Sure, Boss, no problem. I’ve already asked around the main SF community and drawn a blank, but there are a couple of recluses that may know something. They’re off the grid, so I’ll have to visit them in person. They’re not that far apart.”

  “Fine, take one of the Stealth Hawks if you like. Just get me answers. Meanwhile, I need to make a visit myself. I’ll return early afternoon. Are there any question
s?”

  “So, we have no idea where they’ll strike next?” Dom asked. “Not even a best guess?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Jago replied in a low voice. “Not at this stage. We’ve just got to keep at it.” He looked around the room; the mood was sombre. “Right, let’s get out there and find these people, and take no chances. These are well-trained adversaries. The profiler seemed to think that every move is well orchestrated, and if we find them, it’s because they want us to. Bear that in mind as you go about your business.”

  The group dispersed. Jago picked up his drink and continued to sip the cold tea deep in thought.

  Abi wheeled over to him. “You alright, Boss?”

  “Err, yes, I was just thinking, that’s all. Can I help you?”

  “Well, I was just thinking, too. You see, the services have lost loads of people in the last few years with defence cuts and everything. Maybe we should be searching for a techie that’s been working in the corporate sector. You know, in the information security arena. If they have, they’ll more than likely have a recent security vetting status. There can’t be too many of them, can there?”

  “Okay, pursue this. Do you need anything to do this?”

  “Yes, I need clearance.”

  Jago reached for his mobile and searched his contacts. “Call Dean Marsh on this number and go secure. Then give him the passcode EXEMUDRUN5. He’ll help you.”

  “Okay, Boss, I’ve got that, EXEMUDRUN5. And you’re sure that he’ll know that?”

  “Oh, I’m sure all right,” said Jago with a grin.

  “Okay, you’re the boss,” said Abi, wheeling herself away.

  Chapter 20 – Reminiscing

  Fi was sitting astride the Stealth Hawk. She was riding along the M40 towards Oxford in the spring sunshine. She reached a junction just north of Oxford on the ring road so she could continue her journey into the Cotswolds. She arrived at the village of Great Rissington, riding along a narrow lane that curved left and right. On a small incline, she increased power and climbed the hill with ease. About a mile farther on, past some Cotswold stone houses, she came upon the Lamb Inn. The pub was also built in the local Cotswold stone and set back a little from the road. Upon entering the car park, she noticed a flagpole flying the Union Jack flag. She thought how appropriate that was given the fact she was meeting an ex-colleague from the British Special Forces. She went inside and found it to be a mix of modern and traditional decor. She scanned the area and saw Greg already sitting at a table in the corner of the room, pint in hand. Stags’ heads were mounted on Tudor-style panelled walls complete with replica beams and a floor of granite slate. Greg looked up and their eyes met. He got to his feet and walked towards Fi who met him halfway. They shook hands, looked at each other, and embraced.

  “What are you drinking, Fi?”

  “Thanks, I’ll just have a shandy. I’ve got more riding to do later.”

  “You’re on the job, then?”

  “Yes, Greg, I’m working at the moment, and this isn’t exactly a social visit.”

  “I see, what do you say that we get the business out of the way first and then we have some food?”

  “Sure, that sounds like a plan. Shall we take our drinks outside?”

  “Give me a minute, I’ll just get mine.”

  The pair ambled, drinks in hand, around the front of the car park, finally settling on a picnic table near the flagpole. Fi outlined the problem in as much detail as she was able.

  “Bloody hell, Fi. Someone’s gone rogue. That’s not good, that’s not good at all.”

  “But, Greg, you have any idea who it might be?”

  “I can only think of two people who it might be, but they’re both out of the game now. There’s young Rich Mullins. He would have been up to those sorts of antics. That poor devil’s suffering with MS now. His fighting days are over. Mind you, he’s a lucky so-and-so in another respect.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “He’s only gone and won two hundred and fifty grand on the lottery. He’ll need it, mind you.”

  “You mentioned another one?”

  “Yes, and this is a bit of a dark character and is more than capable of the things that you’ve been talking about. But these days he’s caring for his wife. She’s seriously ill; I think it’s the dreaded cancer. He is absolutely gutted after all the years of service, and within eighteen months of leaving, his wife becomes like this. He’s too busy to be up to any antics. I think he might have had a windfall too as he’s had the whole house done up and adapted for her. He’s also got a new car and everything. Some top of the range four by four. I think that us Special Forces types are being looked after, don’t you?”

  “Are you being looked after, Greg?”

  “Fi, what kind of question is that?”

  Greg fell silent.

  “I came into a bit of money a while back. I received ten grand. It was sent to my house by courier and I had no idea where it came from. That’s ten grand to a knackered old SF hero from nowhere. Am I going to ask questions? Hell no! My family deserves a good time.”

  “Has anyone else had a windfall?”

  “A couple of the lads. They’re all different amounts and different couriers and always cash.”

  Fi was thinking hard. She couldn’t connect the dots yet. But she was trying.

  “Okay, Greg. If you do happen to think of anyone who would fit the bill, or hear anything, please let me know ASAP.”

  “Yes, yes, I will. I just can’t think of anyone else.”

  “Oh, you don’t happen to know anyone with the nickname Star Wars, do you?”

  “Star Wars? What kind of nickname is that? No, I don’t, but I’ll ask around. Let’s go and get that food now, I’m starving.”

  They sat down to excellent country fayre, complete with a couple of drinks. During lunch, they reminisced for an hour or so over their service together and the many operations they undertook. But Fi was thinking in the background. She couldn’t get the windfalls out of her mind.

  ***

  Fi’s next destination was the Snowshill Arms set in the small village of Snowshill near Broadway, some thirteen miles away from her meeting with Greg. It was a relatively simple ride, mainly on a single road that was clear of traffic and surrounded by spectacular views of the Cotswold countryside.

  As she arrived, she was presented with the centrepiece of the village, St Barnabas’ Church, a Victorian masterpiece surrounded by gravestones. The road that circled the church grounds was lined with fine stone houses. On the north-west side of the church, opposite the small village green and traditional red telephone box, stood the Snowshill Arms. Fi rode her bike into the car park at the rear of the pub.

  She was slightly nervous about this meeting. Captain Ian Evans was a good soldier in his day. Rumour had it he had lost his way and was often confused. He was a well-respected officer and got on well with his subordinates, always leading by example, especially in tough times — and there had been plenty of those with operations in Iraq, Africa and Afghanistan. He had retired from service three years ago on medical grounds. Some said it was PTSD.

  Fi entered the pub from the side door and saw the imposing figure of Captain Evans standing at the bar, glass in hand and a black Labrador sat beside him.

  “Good afternoon, Sir. Long time, no see.”

  Captain Evans turned around, and although he had been expecting Fi, he greeted her as if it was a surprise.

  “Fi, my word, it’s so good to see you. How come you’re in this neck of the woods?”

  This response took her by surprise, too, so she played along with the theme.

  “Oh, I was just in the area, Sir, and popped in on the off-chance. How are you keeping?”

  “I’m very well, thank you, Fi. I’m taking plenty of exercise as you can see.” He indicated the glass in his hand. “And, of course, I take Rover with me everywhere I go, so he gets plenty of exercise as well. Would you care for a drink?”

  “Why, thank
you, Sir. I’ll have a pint of shandy please as I’m on my bike.”

  The captain ordered the drink and they exchanged pleasantries.

  “Captain Evans, Sir, I’m doing a bit of work at the moment, and I think that you might be able to help me with a little bit of information and your ideas and opinions. You fancy a quick walk outside so we can chat?”

  “That sounds a little cloak and dagger, Fi. Am I right?”

  “I guess you could call it that. It’s just that you’re still in contact with some of the guys in the regiment and I thought you might know someone I was looking for, that’s all.”

  They took their drinks and, along with Rover, walked outside across to the farthest picnic table from the main door and car park.

  “Well, Fi, don’t keep me in suspense. Come on, spill the beans. What’s happening? Why have you come all this way to see me?”

  The captain seemed more lucid now; he was far more aware of the situation around him. Fi chose her moment and gave him a rundown of the events.

  “The thing is, Sir, you might unwittingly know someone who fits the bill, someone we’re not aware of. Can you think of anyone?”

  “I can’t think of anybody that I’ve served with, but there was this one guy that I met at a PTSD group. It was at the hospital in Surrey a couple of years back. It was just at the time when the military were closing their hospitals, and we were all referred to NHS mental health units. The one I went to had a group of around twelve ex-servicemen who had recently left the job.”