by Geoff Wolak
* * *
Mr Grey lifted his mobile. ‘Get me the chairman. Now!’ He had to wait, pacing his hotel room in Zurich. ‘Sir? Someone just tried to take out Beesely and his entire command staff in on ego. Damn nerve agent was used.’
‘Is he still in place?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Are his staff OK?’
‘Yes, sir. But the girl, his secretary, and some others killed.’
‘Close in, we’ll step up things here.’
The chairman lowered the phone, ashen-faced, and stubbed out his cigar. ‘God damn it. It was all going so damn well.’
‘What is it?’ Henry O’Sullivan enquired.
‘Someone just tried to take out Beesely and all his people in one go. Canister of nerve gas.’
Henry grew confused and concerned, but for a different set of reasons to the chairman. ‘Nerve gas? That can only be government level! Someone is trying to remove Beesely from our influence.’
The chairman nodded his agreement, glancing out of the window and thinking hard.
‘Serbs?’ a man asked.
The chairman turned back. ‘A day after he just gave them everything they wanted? Doubtful.’
‘Russians?’ Henry tentatively enquired.
Oliver regarded his number two. ‘Let’s not speculate until we have some facts.’
Second wind
1
Otto gently woke Beesely, offering fresh tea.
Beesely rubbed his eyes. ‘Anything new?’
‘We have the mobile phone details from our Serbian spy. There are frequent calls to and from a woman, a nurse. She is not known to the authorities or to Interpol, but her boyfriend is a Herr Rudenson. He is well known as a collector of money for political groups, nationalist groups around Europe.’
‘A fundraiser,’ Beesely stated as he stared up at the ceiling. Otto nodded to himself. Beesely lowered his head and focused on Otto. ‘Would he have the knowledge to make a bomb and get hold of some nerve agent?’
‘Yes, most definitely. He has links to Serb nationalists and Serb groups in Bosnia. Also he has been arrested many times in Germany, once for possessing a gun and one time for making the small bombs.’
Beesely made strong eye contact with Otto. ‘And his link to Helmut Graf?’
Otto sighed. ‘They are well known to each other, yes.’
‘I would like a list … of all the groups that he has ever been connected to … then a members’ list of each. I don’t care who you have to pay or shoot, just get the lists. Then everywhere he has ever lived, people he has known. ‘This Rudenson - any allegiances higher up? Countries or groups?’
Otto shook his head. ‘A petty thief and nationalist.’
‘Are we making every effort to check that?’
‘We have everyone working on this, we are finding a lot of information.’ He was about to leave when he stopped and turned, his head lowered. ‘There is something else.’ Beesely could see that Otto was clearly upset. ‘The bomb detonated at thirty-five seconds after one o’clock.’ He choked the last few words out. ‘Jane’s satellite tracker was activated at one-oh-one, and twenty seconds, today. She pressed the red button ... and held it.’
Beesely could see Otto’s eyes misting over. But it took a moment for what he was intimating to sink in. ‘Oh God,’ he whimpered. ‘She struggled. She tried to use her phone…’
With the office now empty Beesely remembered the first meeting with Otto, when he handed Jane her phone. ‘Hold the red button down and we can find you, wherever you are.’
Johno stepped in a minute later, noticing Beesely’s crushed demeanour. He sat on the desk and sighed quietly. ‘Didn’t we promise ourselves we wouldn’t get into this situation again? So much for life dealing us four aces.’ Beesely slowly inched his head up, his eyes half closed. Johno softly asked, ‘Feel like rewinding and giving back that hand of aces?’
‘The only way is forwards,’ Beesely muttered, lowering his head. ‘We play the hand. But now we raise the stakes. In poker terms, we go all-in.’