by Kevin Brooks
I knew it was hopeless. Grandad was half dazed, and I was still a good couple of metres away from him, and Bashir was about half a second away from smashing his fist into Grandad’s head . . .
Courtney Lane must have made some sound as she came racing along the corridor, but I swear I didn’t hear anything. One moment there was nothing, and then she just streaked into view, speeding towards Bashir like a missile. She was moving so fast that Bashir never even saw her. I watched, awe-struck, as she launched herself at him, leaping off her feet and slamming her shoulder into his back. The air exploded from his lungs and he flew face first into the breezeblock wall, crashing into it with a sickening thud. He slid down the wall and slumped to the ground like a broken doll. Courtney was onto him in a flash, leaning over him with her fist drawn back, ready to finish him off, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to get up again. He was out for the count.
Courtney stooped down and put two fingers to his neck, checking his pulse, then she straightened up, let out a relaxing breath, and looked over at Grandad to make sure he was OK. He gave her the thumbs up, then turned to me.
He was still a bit unsteady on his feet, but his eyes were clear, and for a wonderful little moment we just stood there looking at each other as if nothing else in the world really mattered.
Someone said something then. I don’t know who it was or what they said, but it broke the silence, and a second later everyone else started talking. Winston and the Omega men, Mason and Lenny and Evie, all of them muttering away in quiet relief. I let out a long sigh of relief myself and watched as Grandad went over to where Bashir was lying and stood there gazing down at him.
‘I thought he was supposed to be the good guy?’ Grandad said to me.
‘Well, yeah . . .’ I replied. ‘He was.’
Grandad frowned. ‘So what happened?’
‘That’s what I’d like to know,’ I said, turning to Winston for the answer.
Winston smiled tightly at me, then looked at Grandad. ‘It’s somewhat complicated, Mr Delaney. Might I suggest we deal with a few practicalities first? And then I’ll be more than happy to explain everything to you.’
53
‘Bashir Kamal is a key member of a terrorist network known as al-Thu’ban,’ Winston told us, ‘which roughly translated means “the Snake”. As far as we know, Bashir was recruited by al-Thu’ban operatives at the age of eleven for the specific purpose of infiltrating British security services. It was a long-term mission. It took almost five years of indoctrination, re-education, conditioning, and training before al-Thu’ban finally thought he was ready. Two days after his sixteenth birthday, al-Thu’ban put their plan into operation.’
‘The suicide bomb in Islamabad,’ Grandad said quietly, shaking his head in disbelief.
Winston nodded. ‘It was made to look as if Bashir’s brother was a random victim of the bombing, but the ugly truth is that Saeed Kamal was actually the target. He was murdered by al-Thu’ban in order to provide Bashir with the perfect cover for infiltrating the intelligence services.’
‘Hold on,’ I said, frowning at Winston. ‘You mean al-Thu’ban murdered Bashir’s brother just to make it look as if Bashir had a genuine reason to hate terrorists?’
‘Exactly,’ Winston said.
‘Did Bashir know?’
‘We think so.’
‘God,’ I muttered, ‘that’s unbelievable.’
‘It is,’ Winston agreed. ‘And that’s precisely why it worked. No one would ever suspect that Bashir’s hatred for his brother’s killers wasn’t genuine. Why should they? And from MI5’s point of view, he was the perfect undercover agent. A young British Pakistani with a profound hatred of terrorism, ready and willing to work for them . . . what more could they ask for?’
It was past midnight now, and there were only the four of us left in Bashir’s room. I was on the white settee with Grandad and Evie, and Winston had pulled up a chair and was sitting in front of us. Courtney had taken Mason to the hospital to get his ribs checked out, and Lenny had gone with them. Bashir had been carried off by Shaved Head and Muscleman, and I guessed he was being held somewhere in the warehouse. Presumably the other Omega men were either guarding him or getting on with whatever they had to do.
‘So when did Omega find out that Bashir was a double agent?’ Grandad asked Winston.
Winston furrowed his brow. ‘Omega?’
Grandad glared at him. ‘I’m not in the mood for games.’
A brief flash of irritation flickered in Winston’s eyes, but he quickly composed himself and carried on. ‘We began to have our doubts after MI5 broke up a terrorist cell in Stratford that Bashir had infiltrated. The cell was supposedly planning an attack on the American Embassy in London, and on the surface it seemed as if MI5 had successfully foiled their operation. They certainly thought they had. But there were some strange inconsistencies about the case, odd little things that just didn’t add up. The more we looked into it, the more we began to suspect that something wasn’t right.’
‘Did you share your suspicions with MI5?’ Grandad asked.
‘Would you have?’
‘Probably not,’ Grandad admitted.
‘They had too much invested in Bashir. They wouldn’t have listened to us. We had no proof anyway.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘We went looking for proof.’
‘Did you find any?’
Winston waggled his hand. ‘We found some, but it was mostly just bits and pieces. It was more than enough to convince us that Bashir was a double agent, but we knew we needed a lot more to convince MI5 that their security was compromised.’ Winston took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘You see, that’s exactly what it amounted to. Britain’s national security service had been fatally compromised by a double agent. An al-Thu’ban terrorist had infiltrated MI5. We had to deal with that.’
‘I’m surprised you didn’t consider neutralising him,’ Grandad said.
‘Oh, we did. And if we’d thought it was the best option, we would have gone ahead and done it. But then we realised that if we could prove to MI5 that Bashir was a double agent, there was a chance they could turn him. They could make him into a triple agent.’
Grandad nodded knowingly. ‘So al-Thu’ban would think he was their inside man at MI5, pretending to be an informant but passing on information to them, whereas Bashir would actually be working for MI5, passing on false information to al-Thu’ban and gathering real information about them to pass on to MI5.’
‘That’s right,’ Winston said.
Evie nudged me. ‘Do you understand a single word of all this?’
I smiled. ‘Sort of . . . but it kind of hurts my head trying to think about it.’
‘Probably best not to think about it then.’
I would have liked nothing more than to stop thinking about it. I was so tired now that I could barely stay awake, let alone think about anything. But there was no way I was giving in to exhaustion just yet. I still had unfinished business with Winston.
‘So anyway,’ he continued, ‘while we were redoubling our efforts to prove that Bashir was an al-Thu’ban operative, his MI5 handler got himself involved in an idiotic scandal, and MI5 made the ridiculous decision to stop using Bashir as an informant. Fortunately it didn’t make any fundamental difference to the situation. Bashir was still a double agent, and he was still a potential triple agent. We assumed he was told by al-Thu’ban to lie low for a while and wait for MI5 to realise their mistake and take him back.’
‘So he left London and came to Barton,’ Grandad said.
‘And we continued with our investigations. Then the CIA started poking their damn noses in, and that changed everything. They had no idea what Bashir really was, or even what he was pretending to be. They just thought he was a terrorist, or he might be a terrorist. If they’d got their hands on him they would have whisked him away to some hellhole and we’d never have seen him again. On top of that, when MI5 found out about the CIA�
�s interest in Bashir, that got them interested in him again.’ Winston sighed. ‘So we had to step in. And we had to do it quickly.’ He gazed around the room. ‘Hence this place.’ He looked back at us. ‘Bashir knew the CIA were after him, and that if he went back to MI5 they might give him up to the Americans, so we offered to keep him safe while we arranged a new life for him – relocation, a new identity, financial security, everything.’
‘And he fell for that?’ Grandad asked.
‘He’s arrogant. He thought he was taking us for a ride. Besides, we’re very good at what we do.’
‘So I’ve heard.’
‘We would have preferred not to have made a move so soon. It was far from ideal having to hide Bashir away from the CIA and MI5, and we knew it wouldn’t take them long to find out that he hadn’t gone to Pakistan to look after his sick grandmother.’ Winston shrugged. ‘It was the best cover story we could come up with at such short notice.’
‘Why did Bashir’s parents go along with it?’ I asked.
‘They were protecting him.’
‘Do they know he’s a terrorist?’
Winston shook his head. ‘They think he’s a hero.’
‘Why?’
‘We told them he was a key witness for the prosecution in a gang-related murder case, and that because the defendant was a violent criminal with a history of witness-intimidation, Bashir was being kept under police protection for his own safety until the case came to trial.’
‘No wonder Mrs Kamal was so frightened,’ I muttered.
‘We had to give them some explanation for the sudden disappearance of their son,’ Winston said. ‘It was a difficult situation. It became even more difficult when John Ruddy hired Delaney & Co to find out what had happened to Bashir.’ He paused for a moment, looking at Grandad. ‘But as I’m sure you know, Mr Delaney, in our line of work you don’t dwell on the negatives, you always look to turn the situation to your advantage.’
‘You’ve got what you needed now, haven’t you?’ Grandad said without hesitation. ‘You’ve got everything that’s just happened tonight on tape.’ He looked around the room. ‘I’m assuming the CCTV cameras in here are hidden?’
‘They’re state of the art, incredibly good quality. I was wearing a button camera as back-up. We actually tried tricking Bashir into revealing himself before, but he didn’t go for it. This time though . . .’ Winston glanced at me and Evie. ‘Well, you and your friends did everything for us really. Once we’d let Bashir see that your attempt to rescue him was genuine, it was relatively easy to convince him that the CIA were on to us, and that we were about to hand him over to them.’
‘You used us,’ I said wearily. ‘You wanted Bashir to take your gun, you let him take it on purpose. You let him threaten Evie with it—’
‘It wasn’t loaded. She was never in any danger.’
‘She didn’t know that, did she?’ I snapped. ‘And what about the knife?’
‘Well, yes, that was unfortunate,’ he said, without so much as a glance at Evie. ‘But it proved beyond doubt the kind of man that Bashir really is. And we have it all on video.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s probably not enough on its own to convince MI5, but once they see everything else we have on him, it should seal the deal.’
‘Do you really think MI5 can get him to work as triple agent?’ Grandad asked.
‘There’s no guarantee of anything,’ Winston admitted. ‘But they’ve been trying to infiltrate this kind of terrorist group for years without success, so if they can turn Bashir, it’ll be a massive step forward.’ He looked at me. ‘Sometimes we have to make short-term sacrifices for the sake of potential long-term benefits. A life risked today might save a thousand lives in years to come.’
‘You knew I’d come looking for Bashir tonight, didn’t you?’
‘I didn’t know anything, Travis. I was just trying to maximise our opportunities. In an operation like this, you have to be prepared to deal with all kinds of contingencies.’
‘Right,’ I said, looking him in the eye. ‘And what about my mum and dad? Were they just another contingency you had to deal with?’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, looking confused. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘They knew you were here.’
He didn’t say anything, just carried on looking puzzled.
I said, ‘I don’t know how he did it, but Dad found out about this place. He found out you were here. He took surveillance photographs from across the road.’
‘He took photographs?’ Winston said.
‘He also knew that MI5 were interested in Bashir. That’s why he was driving down to London with Mum. They were going to see someone at MI5.’
Winston glanced at Grandad. ‘Did you know about this?’
Grandad ignored him, turning to me instead. ‘Go on, Travis.’
‘I think you knew where my parents were going that day,’ I said to Winston. ‘I think you tried to stop them. In fact, I think you did stop them.’
‘No,’ Winston said firmly, shaking his head. ‘We knew your parents had been hired to find Bashir, and I’m not denying that we had them checked out and were keeping half an eye on them. But I can assure you that’s all there was to it. If they were meeting with MI5 that day, we certainly didn’t know about it.’
‘So why were you at their funeral?’ I asked him.
‘I told you. We were aware of your parents’ investigation and we wanted to find out if anyone else knew about it.’
‘But you just said you were only “keeping half an eye on them”.’
‘That’s right.’
‘You filmed their funeral with a hidden camera. That doesn’t sound like “keeping half an eye on them” to me.’
He just shrugged.
‘And you went to all the trouble of arranging a riot so you could search through their offices without anyone knowing. I mean, if they were of no real concern to you, what were you looking for?’
‘Look,’ Winston said, beginning to get edgy. ‘I really don’t think—’
‘How did your van get damaged?’ I asked.
‘What?’
‘The Mercedes van. It’s got a dent over the front-left wheel arch.’
‘So?’
‘There are flecks of yellow paint in the dent.’ I stared hard at him. ‘Mum’s car was yellow.’
He laughed quietly. ‘I’m sorry, Travis, but this is really getting a bit too much now. Just because one of our vehicles has a little scratch on it—’
‘How did you know that their car had spun off the road and hit a tree?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘When you were telling me about your parents’ car crash, you said, “They didn’t just spin off he road and hit a tree for no apparent reason, they crashed because my father had been drinking.”’
He frowned. ‘I’m not with you.’
‘How did you know my parents’ car had spun off the road?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said dismissively. ‘I suppose I read it in the newspaper reports—’
‘No, you didn’t,’ I told him. ‘Earlier this evening I spent an hour on the Internet checking through every newspaper article about the crash I could find. Not one of them mentions anything about the car spinning off the road.’
Winston shrugged. ‘I expect I probably got it from the police report then. We have contacts in the police, it’s not difficult to get hold of the official reports—’
‘I don’t believe you,’ I said. ‘I think you know their car spun off the road because you were there at the time. You saw it spin off the road. You knew they’d found out about the warehouse, you knew they were going to talk to someone at MI5, and you didn’t want that to happen. So you drove them off the road.’
‘No.’
‘You killed them.’
‘No, you’re wrong. I can prove you’re wrong.’ I stared at him.
He said, ‘I can show you something right now that will prove beyond doubt that neither myself nor my colleagues had
anything to do with your parents’ death.’
I’d been so sure that I was right, and Winston seemed so confident of his proof that I wasn’t, that I didn’t know what to say. I just sat there, watching him as he got to his feet and took a mobile from his pocket.
He put the phone to his ear, waited a moment, then said, ‘It’s me. I need those files. Are they still in the ops room?’ He listened for a second, then spoke again. ‘No, it’s all right, I’ll get them.’ He ended the call and put the phone away. ‘I’ll be two minutes,’ he said to me. ‘OK?’
I nodded, and he turned round and walked out of the room.
‘You should have talked to me, Travis,’ Grandad said quietly.
‘I tried to.’
‘You should have tried harder.’
I looked at him. ‘Sorry.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s not your fault.’
We sank into silence then, all three of us just sitting there, staring at nothing, lost in our own little worlds.
I don’t know how long it was before it dawned on me that Winston wasn’t coming back. Five minutes, maybe. Perhaps a little longer. It wasn’t a gradual realisation, I just suddenly knew that he wasn’t coming back. He’d tricked me. Tricked us all. There were no files. There was no proof of anything. He’d gone. They’d all gone. Him, Shaved Head, Muscleman, the rest of them. They’d taken Bashir, got in their cars, and quietly driven away.
I turned to Grandad and saw that he knew it too.
‘Sorry, Trav,’ he said, annoyed with himself. ‘I should have guessed.’
‘What’s going on?’ Evie asked, yawning.
Grandad sighed. ‘I’ve been out of this game too long.’
54
We checked the rest of the warehouse before we left, just in case we were wrong about Winston, but there was no sign of life anywhere. And when we looked in the car park and saw that the BMW and the Mercedes were no longer there, we knew there was no point in looking any further.
They’d definitely gone.
It was time for us to go too.
Grandad had left his car a couple of streets away. I didn’t really feel like talking, so I let Evie sit up front with Grandad while I sat in the back, and as we drove across town and then on towards the Slade, I just closed my eyes and let myself drift away.