Secret Service

by Tom Bradby

He poured Kate a glass of water. She drank it gratefully.

  ‘You look like you need something stronger,’ he said.

  ‘If you were a proper boss, you’d have a flask in your pocket.’

  He smiled and reached into his jacket. But it wasn’t for any kind of alcoholic sustenance. With a magician’s flourish, he took out what looked, at first, like playing cards, and placed them face down on the table. Kate could see that they were SIS staff security passes. Six in all.

  ‘The Russians knew that you were going to be on Andros very shortly after the decision to go was taken. Regardless of whether or not the foreign secretary is a Russian asset, we cannot avoid the fact that we have a traitor inside our organization. So, who is Viper?’

  He looked at the cards.

  ‘Six people had enough information to allow the Russians to act as they did.’

  He turned over the first card. ‘Sir Alan Brabazon, better known as C.’

  Then the second. ‘Ian Granger, director of Europe and Russia.’

  And the third. ‘Danny Simmonds, Operations.’

  ‘Danny didn’t know what we were intending to do there.’

  ‘But he knew the location. He knew you were tracking the Empress. He would have assumed it was connected to what you had learnt in Istanbul.’

  ‘True.’

  He was behaving more like a croupier now, in a high-stakes poker game. ‘Kate Henderson, Russia Desk. Julie Price, Russia Desk.’ He glanced up at her again. ‘And, finally, Ravindra Singh, Russia Desk.’

  He removed Rav’s card from the circle he had created. ‘And then there were five. Why did they kill him?’

  ‘He called me from Zürich. He said he had something on the transactions to the foreign secretary’s offshore company. Proof of the Russian connection.’

  ‘Was anyone else aware of it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Was that why he was killed?’

  ‘Until we come up with a better explanation. And I don’t include a gay-sex game gone wrong. I can’t find his laptop, phone or briefcase.’

  C stared at the cards before him, absorbed, as if trying to force them to give up their secrets. He reached forward. ‘Julie is a recent graduate recruit from the most thoroughly vetted generation in our organization’s history. So, while she could be an agent, it seems unlikely.’

  ‘Unless there’s more to her affair with Ian than meets the eye.’

  ‘Hmm. An attempt to cover her back?’ C toyed with Julie’s card, sliding it in and out of the circle, and ended up leaving it in.

  ‘Operations is a big unit,’ Kate said. ‘They don’t assign themselves. How could the Russians have known Danny would be in a position to help? The description we overheard on the Empress doesn’t fit him.’

  ‘Correct.’ C moved Danny’s card to the side of the table. ‘So that leaves four: Julie Price, Sir Alan Brabazon, Kate Henderson and Ian Granger. The fact that Julie chose to have an affair with Ian seems out of character and surprising. The way in which you claim to have been given twenty-four-carat information as a Valentine’s gift is not credible. And Ian’s desperation to heap suspicion upon you is in itself suspicious.’

  He pointed at the picture of himself. ‘But how much better than all of that it would be if the Russians had the officer who holds the ring as their man.’

  ‘If you mean to unnerve me at this point, I’d like you to know you’re doing a great job.’

  He sat back. ‘I’ve liberated you from the clutches of our friend there.’ He gestured to the door Ian had just left through. ‘But purely temporarily. I want you on that plane to Greece. I’d like to use the time we have left to work every angle within reach. I’ll keep the security detail with your family – around the clock, if need be – and you’ll have a close-protection team with you abroad.’

  ‘I don’t need—’

  ‘After what happened to Ravindra, it’s not something I’m willing to compromise on.’

  ‘Are they protecting me or watching me?’

  He gazed at her steadily. It was impossible to read what was going on behind those eyes. ‘Don’t push your luck, Kate.’

  She stared at the newly painted cold grey wall behind his head. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘We’ll go ahead as planned. But we’ll come up with a different story for Ian. That way, if we see the Russians respond, you can at least narrow it to a choice between him and me.’

  ‘But it must be your story, Kate. And you must tell only him. Otherwise, I’d be able to point the finger of suspicion.’

  ‘That doesn’t lift my spirits much further.’

  ‘You have to keep in mind the possibility that the person you seek might be me.’

  ‘What I keep in mind is – if that’s true, then I’m in the deepest trouble. To misquote that Blair-era civil servant whose name I forget, you’re fucked, I’m fucked, we’re all fucked. So I’m not sure it’s worth thinking about.’

  Kate emerged onto the Victoria Embankment and stood in the lightly drifting rain for a few moments. She looked skywards and let it fall upon her face. Then she caught a cab to her car, drove home and parked opposite the entrance to the house. She could see one of their minders lurking in the shadow of a tree a little further down the street. The light in her bedroom was off.

  Inside, she spent a few minutes being briefed by the head of the security detail. Her close-protection team would arrive in the morning. The rest of them would divide themselves between Stuart and the children. Kate was free to crawl upstairs to bed.

  Fiona and Gus had dragged a mattress into their parents’ bedroom and were asleep head to toe, their faces ghoulish in the halogen glow of the street lamp. Jed lay between the mattress and the wall, but Kate was beyond even remarking on this strange development in their domestic arrangements.

  She elected to undress in the bathroom, brushed her teeth, then crept into bed. She kept her distance from Stuart, so as not to wake him, but he snuggled up to her, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

  ‘Are they asleep?’ she whispered.

  ‘Can’t you hear them snoring?’

  Kate listened to Gus’s ragged wheezing. It reminded her of the nights they’d had him in their room when he was a baby.

  ‘Remember when we used to go on holiday and all sleep in the same room?’ Stuart whispered.

  ‘Our most romantic phase.’ She pressed herself back into him, so that his breath was on her neck.

  ‘Where were you tonight?’

  ‘We lost someone.’

  ‘Christ.’ He raised himself on an elbow and gently turned her over so that she was facing him. ‘Who?’

  She wiped away a tear, and realized she could barely speak. ‘Rav.’

  ‘Oh, my God, Kate.’ The bedsprings squeaked as he rolled onto his knees. ‘How? Where?’

  ‘I found him … hanging in his flat.’

  ‘Jesus!’

  ‘Careful,’ she breathed. ‘You’ll wake them.’

  Unable to hold back the tears any longer, she swung away from him and curled into a ball.

  He gathered her up in his arms. ‘I’m so sorry, my love. I know how much he meant to you. Was it … suicide?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I don’t really want to talk about it.’

  ‘Of course. Just … rest.’

  ‘Someone murdered him.’

  ‘Why would anyone kill Rav?’

  ‘He called me from Switzerland. He had evidence of James Ryan’s Moscow link.’

  She felt him shake his head. ‘Jesus. Is that why the protection team is still here?’

  ‘No. They’re here to watch me. I think the men who came round to scare Fiona and Gus were a set-up.’

  ‘A set-up?’

  She extracted herself gently but firmly from his grasp and sat up in bed. He knelt opposite her. ‘I told you we have a mole, someone at the top of the Service. I think he or she might be trying to make it look like it’s me.’

  ‘Wh
at? How?’

  She turned away from him, wondering how much she should say. But she had to tell someone. ‘Sergei has been feeding me information. It was he who first tipped me off that some of the most senior figures in the Russian Intelligence Service were meeting on a super-yacht in Istanbul.’

  ‘How did he know that?’

  She turned to face him. ‘He’s never come onto our radar before. That’s not unusual. Sometimes they keep agents in deep cover inside the diplomatic service for a long time without using or activating them. But then he started to get in contact – just with small titbits at first, but it gradually became more serious.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you have refused to accept anything from him?’

  ‘Maybe, but the letters came in the post. It would have been hard not to read them.’ Stuart was obviously bridling, so she turned towards the window. ‘It turns out that he’s in the GRU, which is fighting a bitter turf war with the main foreign intelligence service. And not only that, he appears to be at a high level within it, too, close in some way to its chief.’

  ‘Why is that a problem?’

  ‘Because Sir Alan and Ian think I knew that and failed to disclose it.’

  ‘And why would you have done that?’

  ‘Ian is trying to suggest that the only reason I could have kept it a secret is that I’m working for them.’

  ‘That’s absurd.’

  ‘Yes, but right now it makes about as much sense as any other theory and Ian can be bloody clever when he sets his mind to it.’

  ‘So is Ian the mole?’

  ‘He might be. But he’s also weak and paranoid, so it could just be that he’s panicking and trying to make sure the finger of blame doesn’t point at him, regardless of whether he’s guilty or not.’

  ‘You have to stop this, Kate. It’s madness. You have to get out.’

  ‘I can’t stop.’

  ‘You have to. What about Fiona and Gus and …’

  She raised a hand to his cheek. ‘I can’t. Not now. If I don’t finish this, who will?’

  Stuart got up. He skirted the still sleeping children, tweaked the curtain and looked down into the street. ‘It is not our fight.’

  ‘Then whose is it?’

  ‘How can you be sure you have a mole? How do you know they’re not playing you?’

  ‘Because it’s my job to know.’

  ‘How do you hunt him?’

  ‘The same way we always hunt moles. We channel them towards the noose, then pull it tight.’ Kate lay down. ‘I’m sorry, I need to sleep. I know this is very hard for you, but it’s what I signed up for. It’s my responsibility, my … duty. And I don’t have any choice but to go on.’

  Kate turned away from him again. Stuart got back into bed and she pressed her back against him to make it clear this was not rejection. She took his hand and wrapped his arm around her waist.

  ‘Is it a bit weak to admit that I’m frightened?’ he said.

  ‘No. I am too. But we’ll come through it.’

  ‘Could they come after the kids?’

  ‘I … don’t think so.’

  ‘But they might come for you?’

  ‘I can look after myself.’

  ‘Like Rav could, you mean?’

  Kate didn’t answer. She could hear his breathing and sense his alertness. ‘I have to go away in the morning, my love.’

  She could feel his body tense. ‘Where to?’

  ‘I can’t say. We’re in lock-down. I’m sorry, but do you mind holding the fort?’

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘The honest truth is, I don’t know. A few days. A week, maybe.’

  ‘Of course, Kate.’

  He only ever used her name when he was irritated or upset. She waited for the inevitable withdrawal and he duly rolled away. ‘You knew it would be like this. I told you.’

  ‘Perhaps you did. But I don’t mind admitting I’m not as tough as you are.’

  ‘We’re all tougher than we think.’

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘I may be gone before you wake up.’

  ‘Okay. Good luck.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He went silent again. But she could tell he was still wide awake.

  ‘I love you,’ he said.

  ‘I love you, too.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ Fiona said, from the mattress on the floor. ‘Can we all go to sleep now?’

  26

  The easyJet flight direct to Mykonos touched down in a howling wind. The descent had been bumpy as the plane twisted in over the windmills and the whitewashed houses of Chora, and the fishing boats in the bay.

  The wind tugged at Kate’s hair as she came down the steps to a few spits of rain on her cheeks.

  Julie met her and they didn’t exchange a word until they were in the taxi. Tears rolled down Julie’s cheeks and Kate pulled her head to her chest. For a moment, they embraced.

  Julie straightened. ‘I didn’t sleep a wink last night,’ she said. ‘I just couldn’t believe it. What have they found?’

  ‘The inquest will say he accidentally hanged himself while taking part in a sex game. The Russians very carefully and deliberately made it look like Gareth Williams.’

  ‘The guy they found zipped up in a bag?’

  ‘Yes, sorry, before your time. He was a really bright guy working on how the Russian Mafia and oligarch class were laundering their money. We should have learnt our lesson.’

  ‘Why Rav?’

  ‘A similar reason. He had proof about the foreign secretary. He rang me to say so. That call must have signed his death warrant.’

  ‘Have we found the proof?’

  ‘C has our people in Zürich trying to locate the woman he met there, but I imagine she will have disappeared as well.’

  ‘Was she for real, or a set-up?’

  ‘I guess we’ll never know.’

  ‘Where is the close-protection team?’

  ‘I stood them down at the airport this morning. It caused quite a stand-off, but I want us to handle our own security.’

  With its brilliant white houses and churches, dark blue shutters, domes and narrow patchwork of alleys, Chora was every tourist’s fantasy. Lost in thought, Julie didn’t seem to notice any of it. Kate decided to save it for later, and closed her eyes. She’d been up and out of the house painfully early, had dozed fitfully on the flight and her neck ached.

  She’d called Yusuf in Istanbul and asked him to take up residence in Athens airport security. She could have asked the local station chief, but didn’t know anyone there well and, more than anything now, she needed someone in place whom she could trust. She’d then called Ian to tell him she’d received a tip-off from her source that Mikhail was aiming for Santorini – so their entrapment operation would be focused there.

  ‘More misinformation, no doubt,’ he’d said.

  To which she’d replied, ‘Perhaps. But what they then choose to disseminate will tell us something pretty revealing.’

  In any event, the trap was set. There was no one more qualified to spot a Russian wet team than Yusuf and his family. If the Russian team hit Athens and went on to Mykonos, Ian was not the man she was looking for. If they boarded a vessel bound for Santorini, her noose would tighten. She didn’t doubt that the Russians would want to be where she was.

  Even as the last whispers of summer faded into winter on the island – such a climate reminded her that autumn was a quaint and peculiarly English notion – the streets remained busy. Jeeps and scooters and quad bikes wove and swerved and tooted their way through hordes of pedestrians.

  Julie had rented their base through Airbnb. The apartment had a roof terrace with spectacular views of the town and the hills beyond it, which boasted no shortage of Chora’s trademark windmills. Danny had set himself up on the roof, beneath a canvas awning, and the surveillance teams were all in place.

  She could see the Empress, anchored offshore. As always, Igor’s super-yacht was hard to miss. And Danny’s scree
ns were already fired up with the live feeds – eight in all – from cameras attached to the surveillance teams. Kate put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Hello, my friend.’

  He responded with a wistful smile.

  ‘Coping?’

  ‘Depressed about poor old Rav, like everyone. But we’re going to nail these fuckers, right?’

  ‘Yes, we are. Got anything?’

  ‘Not a dicky-bird. We think he must still be on board, but have no evidence of it as yet.’

  ‘What are your plans?’

  ‘Everyone’s out now, but we’ll work a shift system overnight.’

  Kate unpacked in the room she had been assigned, went to the bathroom and washed the grime from her face. By the time she returned to the roof, the red sun was sinking behind the windmills scattered across the neighbouring hillside, no doubt launching a thousand Instagram boasts as it went. Kate sat next to Julie, took off her shoes and pressed her feet against a warm stone pillar.

  The roof terrace was sheltered by a glass wall, but the wind worried away at the canvas awning above them, and the clatter of its metal fasteners reminded her of a yacht’s lanyards beating against its mast on a stormy night. Julie lit a Marlboro, took a few puffs and passed it across.

  ‘Stuart will bloody kill me if he finds out,’ Kate said, after inhaling more deeply than she’d meant to.

  ‘Something tells me that’s going to be the least of our worries.’ Julie took back the cigarette and dragged on it long and hard, then watched the smoke curl upwards until it was whipped away by the breeze. ‘So,’ she said eventually, ‘what happened?’

  ‘Do you really want to know?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I found him hanging naked in his living room. Not a mark on him that I could see.’

  They waited for a while, keeping track of the feeds. A light or two sparkled across the water from the Empress, but there was no sign of anyone arriving or leaving.

  Kate took Julie out to a local supermarket. The alleys around their apartment were filled with tourist shops, selling locally crafted jewellery, accessories, T-shirts, dresses and beachwear. A small and well-stocked supermarket supplied them with lettuce and tomatoes, arborio rice, stock cubes, onions, chillies and mushrooms, which they cooked together in companionable silence.