Secret Service

by Tom Bradby

‘I agree.’

  18

  The Dragon School was in a leafy part of north Oxford and David Snell lived in an apartment at the rear of the school.

  He had the tanned, leathery skin that appeared to be the preserve of southern Africans of a certain era. ‘You’re late,’ he said. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’ He ushered them into a small, gloomy sitting room, where the furniture was down-at-heel, the paint grey and peeling in places. The mantelpiece was crowded with bronze trinkets and wooden carvings, but the walls were completely bare except for an old watercolour of the African bush. There were no photographs. If David Snell had a family, there was no evidence of any affection for it.

  ‘I suppose you’ll need tea.’

  ‘No, thank you,’ Rav said. ‘We’re fine.’

  ‘What is it you want of me?’

  ‘We need to ask a few questions.’

  He indicated that they should sit down.

  ‘I’m sorry to be blunt,’ Rav said, rehearsing his usual spiel, ‘but I’m afraid we must ask you to treat the following conversation in the strictest—’

  ‘I know who you are, for God’s sake. And I know the drill. I wasn’t born yesterday. I also have a geography class to teach, so please get to the point.’

  ‘We’d like to ask you about your work at Blandwick Security,’ Kate said.

  ‘It was a long time ago. What do you want to know?’

  ‘How long did you work for James Ryan?’

  ‘About two years.’

  ‘How did you meet him?’

  ‘He came out to Zim to look for a country manager for a new security business he said he was setting up. He had a friend who’d been in the Recces in South Africa. That’s the equivalent of the SAS there—’

  ‘Thank you. We’re aware of what it was.’

  ‘He recommended me. I met James. I worked with him for a few years. That’s it.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Not much. He was looking for business, guarding big international firms and their premises. But, first, there weren’t many doing any work in Zim, and second, insofar as there was any business, he didn’t win it.’

  ‘Did you work for Mugabe?’ Rav asked.

  ‘Everybody in Zimbabwe worked for Mugabe in those days. He had a hand in pretty much every concern in the country. We did some work briefly for a South African food-processing company, which had a subsidiary owned by one of Mugabe’s relatives, but the Guardian story was basically bullshit.’

  ‘Did you see much of Mr Ryan?’ Kate asked.

  ‘No. He travelled a lot, throughout Africa. Even when he was in Zim, I rarely saw him.’

  ‘So he paid your salary,’ Rav said, ‘and you sat around waiting for him to call with business, which rarely materialized.’

  ‘I rarely sit around. His was just one contract I had. We agreed it was flexible.’

  ‘But he paid you a retainer?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Annual?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And he rarely asked you to do a huge amount in return?’

  ‘Also correct.’

  Kate leant forward. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, Mr Snell, something about this doesn’t entirely add up.’

  He glared at her, but she didn’t flinch.

  ‘Which is a polite way of saying that I don’t think you’re telling us the whole story.’ She was glad he didn’t have a weapon within reach. ‘Look, we aren’t trying to catch you out. This is just a series of routine enquiries being conducted as part of a vetting—’

  ‘That’s what you said last time.’

  Kate frowned. ‘What do you mean, last time?’

  ‘You said all this when you came here before. I spilt my guts out to you and nothing came of it.’

  ‘Mr Snell, unless I’m going prematurely senile, I can say with some confidence that I have never set eyes on you before in my life.’

  ‘Your people.’

  ‘Which people?’

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t remember his name. Some guy asking about James bloody Ryan.’

  ‘From the Security Service or the Secret Intelligence Service – MI5 or MI6?’

  ‘Six.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure. I was in the same business back in the Rhodesian war. I served in the Central Intelligence Organization, then the Selous Scouts.’

  ‘Can you remember their names?’

  ‘There was just one guy. Ian something.’

  ‘Granger?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘What did he look like?’

  ‘Slimy. Unreliable.’

  ‘I mean physically.’

  ‘Five ten, dark-haired, receding hairline, slim. Looked like the kind of guy intent on trying to recover his youth – trim and fit.’

  ‘What did he want?’

  ‘Exactly the same as you. Same questions. Tell me about James Ryan’s business, and so on.’

  ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘I told him that James Ryan was an unreliable cunt and that whatever he was doing in Harare had nothing whatsoever to do with the business he hired me for.’

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘He was there every five minutes. It’s my country, for Christ’s sake, and there’s no one I don’t know.’

  ‘What was he doing there?’

  ‘Crawling so far up the Mugabe family’s backsides you could have seen his head whenever they opened their mouths.’

  ‘To what purpose?’

  He looked away.

  ‘To what purpose?’ Kate repeated.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘It looks to me like you might have a pretty good idea.’

  ‘He left his briefcase in the office one day on one of his rare visits to us. I shouldn’t have looked through it, but I did.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I realized that whatever he was doing with his time, it had precious little to do with us. And I left.’

  ‘What was in the briefcase?’

  ‘Nothing very much. Except business cards and letterheads with his name on from a company called Hamilton Capital Management, which I had never even heard of.’

  ‘What did it do?’ Rav asked.

  ‘I have absolutely no idea.’

  ‘If you had to guess?’ Kate said.

  ‘Someone had to be keeping the Mugabes afloat. The country was bankrupt and there was practically nothing left to steal. So that was an opportunity, right, for anyone who wanted to buy assets or influence. The assets went long before, so who would be interested in buying influence? The Chinese … Shit, I don’t know. Take your pick.’

  ‘That’s a bit of a leap, if I may say so. The Mugabes still controlled the rights to the country’s natural resources.’

  ‘He wasn’t a mineral engineer, let me tell you. The rumour was he was a bag-carrier. That’s all I can say.’

  ‘What do you mean, exactly?’

  ‘Moving money and assets around for the Mugabe family and outside investors who wanted to buy influence.’

  ‘You heard that from old friends in the CIO?’ Rav asked.

  ‘Old friends and new. Like I said, Zim is a small country.’

  ‘And you told all this to Ian Granger?’

  ‘If that was his name, yeah, sure I did.’

  ‘Do you have any idea where the money came from?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You mentioned the Chinese.’

  ‘It was a guess. They were trying to buy influence and assets all over Africa at the time and still are, as far as I know. They thought it was going to provide the natural resources they’ll need in the future.’

  ‘What about the Russians?’

  ‘The same, but for them it’s more like getting back to the days of the Cold War. It’s the Soviet mentality – they want every country in the world in their sphere of influence.’

  ‘Did you ever see James Ryan with any Russians?’

  ‘I hardly saw him, lik
e I said.’

  ‘But specifically …’

  ‘No, I never saw him with any Russians.’

  ‘But he was bringing large sums in and out of the country and Moscow might have been the source of the cash?’

  ‘Might have been.’

  ‘If you had to guess?’

  ‘I’ve told you as much as I know. The cash came from somewhere, but where exactly I couldn’t say.’

  Kate and Rav left David Snell to his unfortunate pupils and began their journey back to London.

  ‘What the hell was all that about?’ Kate asked, as soon as they were in the car.

  ‘Maybe Ian had an investigation and it just ran into the sand,’ Rav said.

  ‘I’ll check it out when I get back.’

  They were silent for a while. ‘I’m sorry about earlier,’ Rav said eventually.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Maybe I should have dropped it. Like you said, Stuart is your husband.’

  ‘Of course you shouldn’t, for all the reasons you gave.’ Kate turned to him. ‘I’m not talking about this again. Stuart might turn out to be a lot of things, but I’ve been married to him since you were a child, and I can assure you infidelity is not his vice.’

  ‘I envy you your certainty.’

  ‘Are you trying to make this worse?’

  ‘No. It’s not about you. It’s about me. I’ve met Stuart. I can see why you feel that way about him. But how can we ever really know? I love Zac. I think he’s a genuinely solid guy. But I don’t know that I trust him a hundred—’

  ‘Let’s drop it, Rav.’

  ‘You once told me you didn’t trust anyone.’

  ‘It’s just a phrase I use to shut people up. I shouldn’t.’

  ‘You said it was one of your problems, but maybe it’s everyone’s.’

  ‘It’s just the business we’re in.’

  ‘You said it had nothing to do with the business we’re in.’

  ‘You really shouldn’t have such a good memory.’

  ‘I sometimes wish I didn’t.’

  ‘I’m fond of you, Rav, and I think you know that, quite apart from the fact that you’ve saved my life on more than one occasion—’

  ‘And vice versa.’

  ‘—but I’m still going to kill you if you don’t shut up for a while.’

  Rav did as instructed. And Kate tried to think about what the schoolmaster had told them. The problem was that suspicion was not only corrosive but explosive. It could dynamite the certainties that underlay not just a marriage but a life. What possible reason could Stuart have had to call Imogen at three in the morning? And why would she immediately come to their house?

  Back at Vauxhall, Kate tried to force herself to focus on something else. She logged in and searched the records for any reference to Snell. The database came up with one result but no corresponding file.

  Kate called the Records Office. ‘Hi, Duncan. Kate Henderson from Russia Desk. I’m trying to locate the records for a David Snell. I have a feeling he was interviewed in connection with a prior investigation. His name comes up when I do a search, but I can’t find the file.’

  ‘Let me take a look. What did you say his name was?’

  ‘Snell. David Snell. From Zimbabwe. Ex-Rhodesian Central Intelligence.’

  ‘Hold on a second.’ Duncan put down the phone. He was gone for a few minutes. ‘There was a file,’ he said, when he came back, ‘but it has a red flag. It’s been closed.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Kate, that’s above my pay grade.’

  Kate was about to hang up when she tried one last throw of the dice. ‘Is there a Finance reference?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Could you give it to me?’ As he spoke, she jotted the number on a piece of paper and went straight down the back stairs to Rose’s office.

  ‘I’m sorry, Kate,’ Jane said, ‘but she went early today. Said she was having guests for the weekend.’

  ‘That’s us, so I can’t complain.’

  ‘Oh!’ Clearly Jane didn’t know what to make of that.

  ‘She’ll be exhausted by Monday,’ Kate said, ‘so cut her some slack. My mother’s coming too.’

  ‘I’ll need her to authorize any discussion on the matter you raised the other day,’ Jane said defensively.

  ‘I understand that.’ She didn’t, though, now she came to think of it. ‘I’ll talk to her. But this is about something else.’

  ‘Oh,’ Jane said again. She looked relieved, which in itself told a story.

  ‘I just wanted to see if we have any codes for a guy called David Snell. Ex-Rhodesian CIO.’

  Jane tapped her keyboard reluctantly. The ability to use the Department of Finance to reverse into the filing system was something few understood. Every trainee had to spend at least a week in every department. Most took a mental break during their time in Finance, but Kate had spotted weaknesses in the system that not even the senior management entirely understood, and which hadn’t been eradicated during numerous upgrades.

  ‘There are quite a few references to a David Snell.’

  ‘Could you give them to me?’

  The printer buzzed, then Jane handed her a sheet of paper, which she took down the corridor to the Records Office. Duncan Black had a shock of curly red hair and skin as white as alabaster. He was lost in his iPhone. He snapped to attention when he saw her badge. ‘Sorry!’

  ‘Duncan, I’ve just been given these codes from Finance, and I need to have the corresponding files, please.’

  He didn’t look convinced. He’d probably never had a request like that before. Kate gave him the warmest of smiles to discourage him from questioning her. He retreated to his screen and she heard the printer going seconds later. Duncan came back with her cover sheet and a thick wad of paper. ‘We’ve got all these.’ He pointed to the eight or nine at the top of the list. ‘But this one is the most recent.’

  ‘So … where is it?’

  ‘Not there.’

  ‘How can it not be there? It’s got a direct corresponding Finance reference.’

  ‘Like I said, it’s been closed.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘I’m not supposed to say. Someone on the management committee.’

  ‘Right.’ Kate frowned, as if trying to work out what to do. ‘But Rose Trewen, the head of Finance, wants it. And she’s on the management—’

  His cheeks began to match his hair. ‘She closed it.’

  Kate stared at him. It took her a few beats too many to recover. ‘Ah. Okay. Thank you for your help.’

  She went back to her office, which was deserted now. Maddy’s desk light was still on, but the corner that Rav and Julie normally occupied was in darkness.

  Kate sat at her desk and interrogated Duncan’s offering. David Snell had been an occasional informer for the Service in the final days of the Rhodesian war, but there was nothing else to be gleaned.

  Maddy returned and handed Kate a small stack of paperwork, kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet beneath her on the soft chair next to her desk. She was the only person who ever did this. Comfort corner, she called it.

  ‘I can tell you have bad news for me,’ Kate said.

  ‘Complicated news.’

  ‘Go on, then.’ Kate leant back. ‘I’m not sure today can get much worse.’

  ‘Rav said I needed to start asking GCHQ for material on the new list for Viper. I’ve only got the phone records so far.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘It might be nothing but it did kind of leap out at me.’ Maddy handed them over. ‘Julie and Ian.’ She pointed at the circled numbers. ‘The top sheets are hers, with his number circled. The bottom sheets are the reverse.’

  Kate turned the pages. Far too many for there to be any doubt. ‘Jesus … She always claims she can’t stand the sight of him.’

  ‘The heart has its reasons.’

  ‘I’m not sure the heart plays any role in this. And it’s not a crime. They’
re two consenting adults. He’s married, but that’s his business, not ours. It shows there’s no accounting for taste, but little else. Unless I’m missing something.’

  Maddy pulled the face she used when she wanted Kate to question her own judgement. Mostly, her commitment to covering Kate’s back was endearing, but occasionally – like now – it was annoying.

  ‘It honestly doesn’t matter,’ Kate said.

  ‘Except that Ian is always trying to undermine you.’

  ‘Don’t worry. Really. Whenever he gets on his Savile Row-clad high horse, I remind myself of Stuart cornering him at the Christmas do.’

  Kate had been forced to ban her husband from office parties after he’d told Ian, when playing Diversity Snakes and Ladders, that being a woman trumped state-school GCSEs every time ‘so she’s always going to slaughter you’.

  ‘But now we have a mole-hunt,’ Maddy said, ‘during the course of which he’ll be doing everything in his power to point the finger elsewhere.’

  Kate took the papers and locked them into her drawer. ‘I really appreciate this. Thank you. But that’s where these belong for now. And where is Julie? I need to talk to her about Lena’s sister.’

  ‘C is on the case. She flies to Serbia tomorrow, first thing.’

  ‘Why is C on the—’

  ‘He said it was his moral responsibility.’

  ‘In what way?’

  Maddy shrugged. ‘An agent lost on his watch.’

  Kate tried to hide her irritation at being outside the loop. And the idea of Julie and Ian as lovers was bizarre. Maddy was hovering. ‘Come on, Maddy, spit it out.’

  She handed over yet more paper. ‘Rav’s phone records.’ She grimaced. ‘And Zac’s.’

  ‘Okay,’ Kate said. ‘I’ll take a look.’

  ‘It’s just …’

  ‘I’ll take a look, Maddy.’

  ‘Right,’ Maddy said. ‘Have a good weekend. I’ll see you on Monday.’ She’d long since mastered the art of lowering the curtain without leaving her audience in any doubt as to her true feelings.

  Once she’d gone, Kate glanced over Rav’s records. Nothing of note. But as Maddy’s expression had made clear, Zac’s were less comforting. Zac’s Scottish trip had been Rav’s excuse for spending so many nights at his desk. But his partner’s phone very clearly placed him at his former wife’s Fulham address.

  Kate shuffled them to and fro on her desk. She went and fixed herself a coffee, then came back and drank it. When she’d run out of excuses not to, she picked up her phone and dialled Rav.