Red Strike

by Chris Ryan

  Moorcroft cleared his throat. ‘Obviously, there have been rumours floating around about Lansbury’s involvement with the Russians. Unfounded speculation, mostly. Idle tittle-tattle. Worthy of the gossip columns, but nothing that ever pointed to a definitive link between Lansbury and Moscow. But then our source at the FSB reached out to us.’

  Bald nodded. The FSB. Russia’s Federal Security Service and the successor to the old KGB. ‘You’ve got a source inside the Kremlin?’

  ‘Indeed.’ Moorcroft smiled thinly at Bald. ‘The same source that told us about the threat to your life, Jock.’

  Porter flashed a quizzical glance at his mucker. Bald blanked him and stared straight ahead, arms folded, as Moorcroft went on.

  ‘Our source had heard a rumour that someone at the FSB was running Lansbury as an asset. Nothing they could substantiate, unfortunately. But our source is dependable. We took it seriously enough to start running surveillance on Lansbury.’

  ‘What did you find?’

  ‘At first, not much. Lansbury is a shrewd operator, despite his bumbling Lord-of-the-Manor shtick. We uncovered some mildly embarrassing personal revelations, porn habits, some quasi-illegal tax stuff. A few boozy lunches with some unscrupulous individuals. But nothing scandalous. Nothing to tie him directly to the Kremlin. Until three weeks ago.’

  Bald said, ‘What happened three weeks ago?’

  Strickland said, ‘We had one of our assets watching Lansbury on his annual holiday in the Maldives. Two days later, our asset reported seeing a high-ranking FSB agent on the same island, at the exact same resort.’

  ‘Sounds like too much of a coincidence, that,’ Porter said.

  ‘That’s our assessment, too. People don’t randomly bump into one another in exclusive five-star resorts in the Indian Ocean. Especially not agents on FSB salaries.’

  Moorcroft cleared his throat and said, ‘Our assets have reported Lansbury meeting with two other known FSB agents in the past two weeks. That makes three meetings with Russian officials, in less than a month.’

  ‘Why is Lansbury meeting with the Russian security services?’ Porter wondered aloud.

  ‘We’re not sure. Our agents couldn’t get close enough to hear what they were discussing, unfortunately. But we think it might have something to do with Lansbury arriving in Budapest.’

  That drew a puzzled look from Porter. ‘What’s he doing there?’

  ‘Officially, Lansbury is in Hungary to support the re-election campaign of his good friend, Prime Minister Márton Fodor.’ Moorcroft shot a quick look at Strickland before he went on. ‘But unofficially, we think he’s there to broker some sort of meeting.’

  ‘Who with?’

  ‘Fellow populists,’ Moorcroft said. ‘Fascists. Far-right extremists. Anyone who’s anyone on the emerging right wing in Europe. Every major figure and leader of a populist or nationalist group is going to be at this meeting.’

  ‘Which is about all we know,’ Strickland interjected. ‘Lansbury and the other attendees are keeping it very secretive. No press, no publicity. Nothing on social media. We don’t know why they’re meeting in Budapest. We don’t even know where the meeting is being held. This thing is so clandestine it makes the Bilderberg conferences look like an office Christmas party.’

  Bald frowned heavily. ‘If this shindig is a big secret, how come you lot have heard about it?’

  ‘Lansbury has been travelling extensively around Europe for the past two weeks, meeting with various populist allies and strongmen. We’ve got assets in those other countries, watching them for us. Looking to see if there’s some sort of connection between his meetings, or a pattern to his movements.’

  ‘What did you find?’

  ‘Something really weird. Every single person Lansbury has met with has cancelled their appointments and told their staff that they are taking an unplanned holiday, for the same three-day period. All of them are heading to Budapest. All of them are due to arrive the day after tomorrow. We think they’re assembling for the meeting.’

  ‘Who else is going to be at this thing?’ asked Porter.

  ‘All the major players on the far right, as far as we can tell. Roberto Zanetti, the Italian Minister for European Affairs. Henri Marveaux, from the French People’s Front. Fodor, the Hungarian strongman. German neo-Nazis. Polster, the Austrian Vice-Chancellor. Not to mention the usual suspects from Eastern Europe and Greece,’ Strickland added. ‘This thing is like the far right’s version of the G7.’

  Moorcroft said, ‘Populists have these get-togethers all the time, but they don’t hold them with anything like this degree of secrecy. Usually you can’t keep those fellows away from promoting their every waking movement on social media.’

  ‘And we have no fucking clue what’s happening at this thing?’ asked Bald.

  ‘Not really,’ Strickland conceded. ‘Our best guess is that Lansbury is trying to fix a deal with the other populists.’

  ‘What kind of deal?’

  ‘We’re not sure. They might be planning on forming a new underground alliance. Or maybe they’re plotting campaign tactics. But whatever Lansbury is up to, we think he must be doing it on behalf of the Russians. That would explain the pattern. First the meetings with the FSB agents. Then the big conference with the far-right groups.’

  Porter nodded slowly. ‘It points to something. I just can’t see what.’

  ‘Might be a honey-trap situation,’ said Bald. ‘Maybe Lansbury is luring his mates out to this meeting so his Kremlin friends can bring the stinkers in. Get them populists caught shagging some Russian redhead and use it to blackmail them.’

  Moorcroft cocked an eye at Bald. ‘Is that a theory of yours, or a private fantasy?’

  ‘Just saying. It’s a possibility. You’ve got a bunch of horny old farts having some private get-together, and Lansbury’s dodgy Russian connections. The Russians can’t resist a bit of bribery and blackmail, can they?’

  Strickland said, ‘We’ve thought about that. But it’s unlikely. The truth is, these individuals are already on the same side as the Russians. Their election campaigns have been financed by Russian money. They’ve had troll factories in St Petersburg working on their behalf, spreading fake news. They’re in Russia’s pocket, whether they publicly admit it or not.’

  Moorcroft nodded at Strickland and sat forward, folding his hands in front of him.

  ‘What Maddy is saying is that right now, we simply can’t be sure what Lansbury is up to in Budapest. It might be something big. But it might also be nothing at all.’

  ‘But you don’t think it’s nothing,’ Porter countered. ‘Otherwise you wouldn’t have called us here.’

  Moorcroft nodded again. ‘Lansbury is a potential Russian agent, running around Europe, setting up clandestine meetings. Whatever it is he’s planning, we think it must be big. We need to get eyes on him, guys. Which is where you two come in.’

  He paused for a beat. Looked Bald and Porter hard in the eye.

  ‘You’re going to get on Derek Lansbury’s bodyguard team. You’ll earn his trust and accompany him to this meeting, and wherever else he goes for the next several months. Then you’re going to gather enough evidence to put him away for the rest of his life.’

  The room was silent for several moments. Porter and Bald stared at the two spies, frowning heavily, heads tilted, like a couple of posers at a gallery, interpreting a piece of postmodernist art.

  ‘This is a long-term assignment,’ Moorcroft explained. ‘We expect you’ll be working close-protection for Lansbury for the foreseeable future. We’ll need evidence of his collusion with Russia, the names of people he’s dealt with, conversations he’s had, payments made. The works.’

  ‘Let me get this straight. You want us to get on Lansbury’s team, so we can gather all this stuff for you and your Vauxhall pals?’ Bald asked.

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘Why not just lift the fucker? Put him in a cell in Vauxhall, slap some plastic cable ties around his bollocks an
d get him to spill his guts?’

  ‘Won’t work,’ Strickland said. ‘For two reasons. One, Lansbury would simply deny everything. All we have right now is some second-hand intelligence from a foreign asset, and three suspected meetings with Russian FSB agents. Neither of which would stand up in a criminal prosecution. If we snatch Lansbury now, we’d spook him. Put him on high alert. All we’d be doing is sending him deeper underground.’

  ‘What’s the second reason?’

  ‘Arresting Lansbury would flag up to the Russians that we’re on to their man. Whatever he’s planning, the FSB would presumably abort the mission and cover their tracks. It’s self-defeating.’

  ‘Not to mention politically toxic,’ Moorcroft put in. ‘The moment we place Lansbury under formal arrest, the conspiracy theorists are going to go into overdrive. Lansbury’s supporters in the US and Europe will come to his defence, accusing us of a witch-hunt. Which is why we have to build the case against him first. If we’re going to bring him down, this thing has to be absolutely rock solid. We don’t want to arrest him just because he’s confessed to murder, so to speak. We want to catch him on the doorstep of his intended victim, with a gun in his hand.’

  The veteran spy leaned back in his chair, folded his hands behind his head, a fiery glint in his eye. ‘Rather a good plan, don’t you think?’

  ‘Aye,’ Bald replied. ‘With one great big fucking hole in it.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I’m guessing that a man who gets as many death threats as Lansbury already has his own close-protection team.’

  Strickland nodded. ‘Ex-Special Branch. Two of them.’

  ‘And they’ve probably been doing it for a while.’

  ‘Two years, to be precise.’

  ‘So why would Lansbury suddenly ditch his trusted BG team and go with a couple of randoms?’

  ‘We’ve thought about that.’ Moorcroft smiled broadly. His eyes were twinkling with excitement, Bald noticed. The guy was in his fucking element.

  Moorcroft looked across the room at the clock mounted on the far wall, eyes narrowed calculatingly. He said, ‘Eight hours from now, Derek Lansbury’s bodyguards are going to have an unfortunate accident. One that will keep them out of action for several weeks. Which means that there will be a couple of short-term openings on Lansbury’s team. Derek will be desperate to replace them, especially if he’s busy organising a secret meeting with his populist chums.’

  Bald said, ‘What kind of accident?’

  ‘That’s none of your business, old bean. All you need to know is, Lansbury’s current team is going to be out of the picture. It’s taken care of.’

  Porter shook his head, puzzled by something. ‘That doesn’t solve the problem, though.’

  Moorcroft’s bushy eyebrows came together. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Once Lansbury’s bodyguards have been knocked on the head, how are you gonna make sure he chooses us? I’m guessing loads of other lads will be putting themselves forward for the gig.’

  ‘We’ve already thought of that,’ Strickland said. ‘Lansbury has a close friend in the House of Lords. Lord McGinn. Former army officer, Chief of the General Staff under the last PM and a long-time ally of Lansbury. He’s going to call Derek after the attacks on his bodyguards have gone public and recommend you two for the position.’

  ‘He’s agreed to help?’

  ‘He doesn’t have a choice.’ Moorcroft smiled. ‘McGinn is already in our pocket. If he fails to cooperate, we’ll release the pictures we have of him at a brothel in Leeds, dressed head-to-toe in BDSM gear. Pictures his wife and sixteen-year-old daughter would love to see, I’m sure.’

  Bald puffed out his cheeks. ‘Fuck me, is there anyone you lot don’t have dirt on?’

  Moorcroft merely shrugged.

  ‘What if Lansbury ignores his mate’s advice?’ asked Porter.

  ‘He won’t,’ Strickland replied confidently. ‘He and McGinn are tight. McGinn has been active on the anti-EU scene for several years. They’re both members of the Oriental Club, both big rugby fans. Lansbury will trust whatever he says.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Moorcroft added, ‘there won’t be any time for Lansbury to consider other applicants. He’s going to need someone in place as soon as possible, especially if he’s up to no good in Budapest.’

  Porter said, ‘Let’s assume this all goes as planned.’

  ‘That’s a big fucking if,’ Bald muttered.

  Strickland shot a glance at him before Porter continued. ‘What happens once we land the job?’

  Moorcroft said, ‘As soon as you’ve been hired, you’ll get on the next flight to Budapest and rendezvous with Lansbury at the Royal Duna Hotel. Maddy will give you the details, won’t you, dear?’

  He glanced at Strickland and smiled condescendingly. Moorcroft was throwing his weight around, letting everyone in the room know who was calling the shots. Strickland quickly masked her irritation and looked towards Bald and Porter.

  ‘We’ll need you to plant listening devices in each and every room Lansbury is staying in,’ she said. ‘Wherever he goes, you need to bug it. He travels frequently, so there’s going to be a lot of planting and hiding of devices. We understand that his existing BG team conducts regular sweeps of his rooms, especially before meetings, so we’ll equip you with fake bug detection kits to get around that.’

  Which made sense, Bald thought. Bodyguard teams for high-value targets regularly swept down rooms for bugs. Part of the job description. Bald and Porter would be expected to check every room Lansbury slept in or conducted business in.

  ‘What if he meets with someone who insists on doing their own sweep of the room?’ asked Porter.

  ‘In that case, we’ll warn you in advance and turn off the devices remotely. We can do that from Vauxhall, with the flick of a switch. If the devices are turned off, they won’t show up on any electronic sweep.’

  Moorcroft noted the uneasy look on the faces of Bald and Porter and smiled reassuringly.

  ‘The surveillance guys will brief you immediately after this meeting. They’ve got some fascinating technology that will make this all very easy to do. Far beyond my understanding, I’m afraid.’

  ‘No surprises there,’ Bald replied drily. ‘This stuff wasn’t around in the 1800s.’

  Porter ignored his mucker and said, ‘How long will me and Jock be doing this job for?’

  ‘As long as it takes,’ Strickland responded. ‘But we expect your assignment to last for six months. Minimum. We’ll need that long to gather enough evidence to build a watertight case against Lansbury.’

  ‘His bodyguards won’t take that long to recover from whatever injuries they have,’ Bald pointed out. ‘What happens if he wants to hire them again?’

  ‘You’ll have to win him over. Earn his trust. Get him on your side so he forgets about the other two bodyguards.’

  ‘Lansbury is a populist,’ Moorcroft emphasised. ‘They’re a thin-skinned bunch. The best way to gain their confidence is often to indulge in a spot of old-fashioned arse-kissing. Make yourself the flavour of the month.’

  Bald stared at Moorcroft, lips curled up in disgust. ‘You want us to blow smoke up the arse of some right-wing nutjob?’

  ‘We’re not asking you to have an intellectual conversation with the man, for Chrissakes. You just need to give him a few compliments, so he takes a shine to you. Tell him how much you enjoyed his views on the burqa, that kind of thing.’

  ‘Bloody hell. This just gets better and better.’

  Porter was grinning. ‘Cheer up, Jock. You’re passing yourself off as a racist, far-right bigot. Shouldn’t be too hard for you.’

  ‘Fucking do one.’

  Strickland looked at them both for a moment. ‘It’s important to earn Lansbury’s trust. We’re going to need you both on this thing for the long term. The more data you can harvest, the better our chances of bringing him to justice.’

  ‘What about backup?’ Porter asked.

  ‘
We’ll provide you with as much support as possible, within limits. That means utilising local assets, as and when we need them: additional surveillance teams, drivers, making supply runs. Whatever you need, we’ll be able to engage local assets to help out. At the same time, we’ll check in regularly with our sources. If there is a genuine threat to Lansbury, you’ll be the first to know about it.’

  ‘We’d fucking better,’ Bald muttered. ‘Because if someone does take a pop at that twat, I ain’t taking a bullet for him.’

  ‘It won’t come to that.’

  ‘What if we need to make a fast exit?’ asked Porter.

  ‘You’ll be given instructions for a ratline run,’ Strickland said. ‘Our assets have got ways of smuggling you across the border while avoiding manned checkpoints. If for some reason you can’t make it out of the country by land, we’ll have a Dauphin helicopter on standby across the border in Austria, at a military base a few miles outside of Graz. The Dauphin can be anywhere inside Hungary within the hour.’

  Bald grunted. ‘That’s supposed to make us feel better?’

  ‘Cheer up, guys.’ Moorcroft flashed them a matey smile. ‘This is a straightforward gig. Low-risk, minimal chances of contact. Most of the time you’ll be standing about looking hard or escorting the principal around town. Even you two should be able to handle that particular challenge.’

  Porter cocked his head at Moorcroft. ‘Why us?’

  ‘Because you two fit the bill. You’re ex-Regiment men, guns for hire, looking for steady work and available immediately. And you won’t arouse any suspicion with the target. If we had gone with a pair of full-time SAS men, it would look strange to Lansbury. He might wonder why they had forfeited a generous pension to join his bodyguard detail.’

  ‘And it’s easier for you to wipe your hands clean if me and Porter here get rumbled,’ Bald growled.

  ‘Why you’re here is none of your business,’ Moorcroft snapped. ‘We called you both here to discuss the operation. That’s what you’re here for: to provide the muscle. Now you’ll do the job as directed or we’ll find someone else who will. Is that clear?’