by Angus McLean
Todd took them through another door, down a short corridor and showed them into a smaller room. Two cots were set up with sleeping bags unrolled. Sets of clothes were stacked at the foot of each bed.
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘we thought it was two guys. We can move you somewhere else if you like, miss.’
Katie shook her head, putting her bag down.
‘All good,’ she said.
Todd pointed to the other door opposite.
‘Bathroom’s through there,’ he said. ‘It’s pretty good – this is supposed to be an officer’s quarters, but he ain’t here yet, so it’s all yours.’ He grinned. ‘Make yourselves comfortable.’
‘How long’re we here for?’ Moore asked.
Todd shrugged nonchalantly.
‘You got me, pal. I’m just the messenger.’
‘Can we make a call?’
Todd smiled apologetically.
‘My understanding is not yet,’ he said. ‘But should be no problem later. Some guys wanna talk t’ya first, I think.’
Moore nodded resignedly.
‘So shower, eat, and hurry up and wait,’ he said. ‘Same old.’
Todd’s deep eyes studied him for a moment.
‘You got it. Just come back through that way when you’re ready to eat and we’ll take you to the chow hall, ‘kay?’
With that he left them to it.
Katie lifted her bag onto one of the cots and unzipped it.
‘I dunno about you, but I’m screaming for a shower,’ she said.
Moore took the other bed and dug out his toiletries with a change of clothes. He checked the bathroom and saw there was a single shower cubicle and a tiny sink.
‘You go first,’ he said.
Katie closed the door behind her and Moore sat on his cot. Despite the proficiency of their hosts – and he’d always admired the American operators – he disliked being at the mercy of somebody else. He stretched out on the cot with his hands behind his head and thought while he waited. By the time Katie emerged with damp hair, dressed in fresh black jeans and a long sleeved white shirt, Moore had come to some conclusions. He kept them to himself for now.
‘Better?’ he asked.
Katie nodded as she brushed out her long dark hair. He noticed she had a St Christopher’s medal on a thin silver chain around her smooth neck.
‘It’s nice to get all the dirt and sweat off,’ she said. ‘I’m knackered though.’
Moore grabbed his gear and headed for the bathroom. Ten minutes later he was showered and shaved. He dressed in clean khaki chinos and a black T-shirt.
Katie was waiting by the door and led the way through to the other dorm room. The Batman fan was asleep now, snoring beneath the comic over his face.
Todd was in the hangar talking to the short U2 fan when they came out. He broke off and came to them.
‘Time for some breakfast?’ he said. ‘Or lunch or dinner – doesn’t make much difference.’
‘Lead the way,’ Moore invited him. ‘I could chew the arse out of a low-flying duck right now.’
Todd cocked his head quizzically.
‘That sure is descriptive, pal, but I don’t think we’ve got duck on the menu today. Maybe some chicken though.’
He took them out a side door into the bright sunshine and across a dusty compound to another building. Moore scanned around and saw huts dotted about. Razor wire topped the high walls and he saw a guard tower on one corner.
A small group of operators were at a corner table in the dining hall, mugs of coffee in front of them and carbines near at hand. They looked up and nodded to Todd, and looked curiously at the newcomers.
The scullery was manned by a tattooed cook with a Fu Manchu moustache.
They each grabbed a plate and piled them high with beans, over easy eggs, hash browns, and toast. Todd fetched coffee and took them to the opposite side of the room from the group of operators. For five minutes they ate in silence, Todd watching them with amusement while he supped his coffee.
Finally Moore pushed his plate away and sat back, munching on a slice of whole wheat toast. He swallowed, washed it down with a swig of coffee and eyed Todd across the table. The American watched him carefully, an amused half-smile on his face.
‘What’s on your mind, pal?’
Moore put his mug down.
‘Bragg?’ he said.
Todd’s moustache twitched.
‘Papakura?’ he countered.
Moore took the first step.
‘Yep.’ He shrugged. ‘Used to be, anyway.’
Todd tilted his chin.
‘And now?’
Moore met his gaze.
‘The Service,’ he said.
Todd nodded slowly, as if his suspicions had been confirmed. He tapped a thick finger against the side of his mug. He nodded again; decision made.
‘Delta,’ he said.
It was Moore’s turn to nod.
‘Thought so,’ he said. ‘Still, or used to?’
Todd smirked.
‘Still,’ he said.
‘Not Langley then?’
Todd shook his head.
‘No, not Langley. Maybe one day.’ He stroked his beard and turned to Katie, who had watched the dance in silence. ‘And you, Miss Katie?’
She looked at him.
‘Me what?’
‘You’re SIS as well?’
She shook her head.
‘Na, I’m a cop.’
Todd shot a quick look to Moore, who nodded.
‘Seriously? What the hell?’
‘Long story,’ Moore said.
Todd cocked an eyebrow.
‘Kinda changes things a bit,’ he said.
Moore set his jaw stubbornly.
‘No need to,’ he said.
Todd frowned.
‘I think that’s maybe not your decision, pal,’ he said. ‘It changes things for us, being what we are; we got op-sec considerations.’
‘No reason it should,’ Moore insisted. He leaned forward too, elbows on the table in a mirror of Todd’s position. ‘Op-sec is fine; I’m vouching.’
The tension between the two men was palpable. Katie wiped her mouth on a paper napkin.
Moore knew it was a turning point, but despite the food in his belly he was exhausted and didn’t give a shit anymore. He knew what Katie had been through and he realised he believed in her. No longer was she an outsider. She had his vote and that was all that mattered to him.
He held Todd’s level gaze. Finally the other man gave a short nod.
‘I hear you,’ he said.
Moore drained his mug and set it down with a clunk.
‘So,’ he said. ‘Some people want to speak to us.’
He glanced up as the surfer dude and his Hispanic mate entered the room. They joined the team at the other table. He turned back to Todd.
‘They do,’ the American said. He leaned forward further, lowering his voice. ‘Langley.’
Moore glanced first at Katie then back to Todd.
‘Sweet as,’ he said. ‘Give us five minutes to let the food settle and I’ll call base, then we’ll talk to them.’
Todd nodded, stood, and walked away.
Moore leaned in close to Katie, lowering his voice as he spoke urgently.
‘Just answer their questions,’ he said, ‘they want intel, not evidence okay? Tell it how it was. Remember I interrogated the guy in the suit while you were inside checking for any intel we could find; you had no part in that, right?’
She nodded quietly.
‘What’re you going to say about that?’ she asked.
‘I’ll be honest about how I interrogated him and he answered some questions.’ His face was serious and he hoped she got the message. ‘This is war, remember, not some back street of provincial New Zealand. Different rules apply.’
Katie nodded firmly.
‘Got it, no worries.’
‘Good. Let’s do it.’
Chapter Thirty Three
The Billy Crystal lookalike took Katie first and told Moore not go too far.
He wandered out into the hangar and spoken to Jedi via phone – which he had no doubt was listened to anyway – and received brief instructions. The Director was happy to cooperate fully with the Americans and gave them the green light. Jedi also confirmed that the Police were aware of Katie travelling overseas but not the reason behind it.
Moore asked for an update on Natalie Oldham.
‘Nothing so far,’ Jedi told him. ‘The techos got us some stuff to work with from her computer, but so far we don’t have anything we can work up. Her father’s on our case about it – well, his little sidekick is anyway – calling the boss every day wanting to know where we’re at with it.’
The Ops Officer’s tone was one of frustration.
‘He’s a funny wee fella,’ Moore commented.
Jedi grunted down the line but refrained from voicing his own thoughts.
‘The Minister is very keen to get traction on finding his daughter,’ he said instead, ‘and that means the Director is too. Do what you need to do, Rob.’
‘I don’t even know what bloody country I’m in at the moment, mate,’ Moore replied. ‘Has JJ come up with anything back in Turkey?’
There was a pause and for a moment Moore thought he’d lost the connection.
‘JJ’s dead,’ Jedi said bluntly.
Moore felt a kick in his chest and physically recoiled. He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it, hearing Jedi’s voice from far away.
‘What? What d’you mean he’s dead?’
‘Not a hundy on that yet. It appears that he fell down the stairs at the hotel where he met you, broke his neck.’
Moore’s mind immediately flashed back to the impression he’d had on exiting the hotel himself, the movement he’d detected above him in the stairwell. Could it have been an assassin? A killer who eluded him and dealt to JJ by throwing him down the stairs? The way things were going so far, he certainly couldn’t rule it out. He kept it to himself for now though, knowing he had nothing factual to base his suspicions on.
‘What about the woman he was working with?’ he said. ‘Evin, I think her name was?’
‘No idea mate,’ Jedi said. ‘Never heard of her. I’ll follow it up.’
‘Once we’re clear from here we can head back to Ankara and chase her up,’ Moore offered. ‘She was with him on the day; she has to have seen something.’
‘I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, play nicely with your new friends.’
Moore grinned to himself and disconnected. He turned and looked around him at the inside of the hangar. Sure enough, one of Todd’s crew was not far away, keeping a not so subtle eye on him.
Moore put the phone away and headed back to the chow hall.
He got himself another coffee to fight off the fatigue, and when he resumed his seat he was joined by the surfer dude and his teammates. Todd was nowhere to be seen.
‘Jerry,’ said the surfer dude, extending his hand. ‘This is Joel, Chuck, Marko, Knees and Bobby.’
Moore shook their hands in turn.
‘Rob,’ he said.
‘So you were with The Group?’ Jerry asked, sitting opposite him.
‘Yep. Fifteen years.’
Jerry let out a low whistle, and so began the informal interview that always took place when operators from different units came across each other – did you know so-and-so, where you on such-and-such an operation, what troop were you in?
Moore relaxed in the easy chatter, feeling comfortable in their company, although he wasn’t fooling himself that he was still at their level. These were battle-hardened warriors, at the peak of their powers, constantly training and fighting.
While one of the guys – the short muscle-headed guy, Bobby – regaled them with a story about a British SAS trooper they’d had on attachment, Moore had a sudden flash of self-doubt.
He was a few years out of this game, despite the regular operations and training he did, plus he realised he was at least five years older than any of them. His life was certainly softer now than it had been. Gone was the hardnosed Special Forces NCO, the expert at unconventional warfare, replaced by a spook who, although still highly skilled, played a different game. A string-puller; a shadow dancer.
No, he told himself, that’s bullshit. He knew that he’d acquitted himself well in the last few days, and his words to Katie came back to him.
Your training, your instincts, your guts – that’s what got you through. And you should be proud of that.
Looking at the operators around him, he realised he was being unfair to himself. It was like comparing a former top athlete with the current star of the team. He forced the negativity from his head and tuned back into the conversation, hearing his name being called.
He looked up. Billy Crystal was at the door, waving for him to come.
Moore pushed himself away from the table.
‘Thanks for the chat, fellas,’ he smiled to his companions, ‘we must do it again some time.’
The Billy Crystal lookalike had introduced himself as Pat and sat with Moore in a Portakabin decked out as a lounge of sorts.
The debrief was audio recorded. They sat in plastic lawn chairs.
Pat had run through the preliminaries then got straight into it.
‘We’ve been to the farm. The phones you recovered gave us some valuable intel,’ he said. ‘You know who the suit was, I guess?’
‘The Doctor,’ Moore confirmed.
‘Got it. We have solid intel linking him to ISIS and particularly to eight murders – civilian informers mostly plus a couple of aid workers. Ten to one he’s had a hand in many more than that.’
Moore nodded. None of this was news.
‘One of the other guys there was a known player, often acted as The Doctor’s bodyguard. Iraqi, ex-Republican Guard – one of Saddam’s boys. He’s been on a watch list for a long time.’ Pat adjusted his lapel mic. ‘The others were unknowns, appears they were all Turks. We’re doing some more work on them.’
Moore listened intently, disinterested in the individuals but eager to know where they had come from and how he had come to cross their path.
‘So how about we start at the beginning and you run me through your interactions with these guys.’
Pat sat back, his body language open and relaxed. It was like talking to a shrink, Moore thought.
He did as he was asked, taking the spook through each step of the previous hours, from the time he had landed in Turkey to the exfiltration by the Delta Force team. He spoke succinctly, not wasting words, and offering no opinions. He explained how he had sent Katie back inside the building after the contact at the farm, and how he had interrogated The Doctor using pain compliance.
He thought he saw a flicker in Pat’s otherwise impassive face at that point, but nothing was said. He hoped that Katie had kept to the brief – too bad right now if she hadn’t, he had to stick to his story.
When he was finished, Moore sat back.
‘And here we are,’ he said, gesturing around them. ‘Somewhere in Northern Iraq, I’m guessing.’
Pat gave a small smile but didn’t bite.
‘So just to clarify,’ he said, ‘you managed to free yourself except for your hands, and you attacked the two guards when they entered the cell with your colleague? You disarmed and incapacitated them both with your hands bound behind your back?’
‘That’s right,’ Moore said.
‘Are you serious? You had your hands tied behind your back, and you took out two guys armed with AK47s and pistols?’
‘Yep.’ Moore looked him in the eye. ‘That’s what happened.’
Pat shook his head, either in disbelief or amazement – he was too professional to give much away. Either way, it annoyed Moore, but he bit his tongue.
‘Then as you attempt to escape from the cell you are surprised by a guy in the outer room, and you both shoot him.’
‘Correct.’
‘And during this your prisoner is shot in the back of the head.’
Pat met Moore’s gaze. He had expressionless brown eyes.
‘Correct.’
There was silence for a long moment. Moore knew that Pat was using the silence, wanting him to fill it with a further explanation. He stayed silent.
‘It could almost sound…I don’t know…a bit like an execution,’ Pat said.
His tone was neutral. Moore shrugged.
‘It could. But it wasn’t. He moved the wrong way in a dynamic situation and was accidentally shot.’ He shrugged again. ‘Regrettable perhaps, but it happens.’
Pat nodded.
‘Uh-huh. Then outside you’re about to leave on foot when the vehicle arrives and you engage the three occupants, killing all three.’
‘They got spooked by something and we had our hand forced,’ Moore said. ‘The plan was to stay out of sight and try and take their vehicle. It didn’t work out and things went noisy.’
Pat gave another slight nod.
‘So you shot all of them?’
‘I did.’
‘All three of them, without either of you being wounded, even though they were armed?’
‘That’s right.’
‘That’s some pretty serious shooting,’ Pat commented.
Moore nodded, said nothing. It wasn’t his place to praise his own work.
‘So the driver and the bodyguard die instantly and The Doctor survives a short time.’ Pat made eye contact again. ‘Correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘You send your colleague inside to check for any intel, and you interrogate him using, aghh…pain compliance techniques?’
Here it comes, Moore thought. She’s dropped me in it.
‘Yep,’ he said confidently.
Pat nodded thoughtfully.
‘Where did you learn pain compliance techniques, Rob? It’s not something you can study at university.’
Moore held his gaze.
‘I was in the Special Air Service for a long time.’
He left it at that, letting Pat draw his own conclusions.
‘I see.’ Pat leaned forward and picked up a remote off the floor. He used it to stop the recorder, and unclipped his mic.
Moore did likewise, passing the device over.