The Grey man had asked, “How do you kill a man hiding in a crowd?”
“Easy,” the Assassin had replied. “Kill the crowd.”
The Assassin turned and walked into the right hand waiting lift. The Grey Man sent it to the garage level. With the guns now concealed under the raincoat, he walked past Filippo’s waiting limousines to the Fiat and drove out into the waiting sunshine. Time taken in all - under three minutes from when the hit started.
After five miles he pulled over by the side of a quiet back road and got into a waiting silver Audi A8 only taking his original suitcase. He left the holster, guns, earpiece, raincoat and the holdall in the boot of the Fiat, to be picked up and disposed of by The Firm later.
In the glove compartment he found airline tickets in the name of Fowler for later that afternoon out of Florence airport, some one hour’s drive away. He drove carefully enjoying the sunshine and the beautiful Italian scenery allowing the adrenalin to ease from his body. He had felt truly alive during the hit but now as it was over he wondered again what to do next. He was sixty five years old and realistically knew he could not go back to an active assassin’s life no matter how much he wanted to plus he had Jonathan to consider. Life was not sweet but he had decided to live it.
Chapter 3
The Firm
‘The Firm’ can get you anything you want for a price, from robbing a bank, to obtaining false passports to murder, even bringing down a small country if you so wish. To own The Firm not only takes you to the top table in espionage, it makes you the king.
It is so secret that only a select few know of its existence. Even the name ‘The Firm’ is a misnomer. There is no one company but a myriad of companies all loosely joined together.
How did it come about? In the late 1960s with the Cold War at its height, spying was a big industry employing tens of thousands of people. Very few were in the front line, the bulk being the quiet individuals who lived ordinary lives both in the UK and abroad who, when called for, would supply certain services - cars in Berlin, safe houses in Manchester, documents of all types - whatever was needed to support the front line operative.
The cost of the infrastructure of the UK intelligence departments alone was incredible. For example, paying someone to live in France and adopt a low profile existence, who was possibly only called on for services twice a year was unbelievably expensive and inefficient. By the early 1970s the financial strain on the Service was destroying it. With three day weeks and huge unemployment throughout the country there was not the money to run an effective Secret Service and the department came close to closing down.
The Grey Man and others, including Collins, The Assassin, came up with a solution. Why not outsource all this infrastructure, set up the current background security operatives in legitimate business, then when needed the security services would pay for the “special” service. The rest of the time there would be no cost to the government. It was a godsend. Small investments were made to a large number of staff along with, where possible, government contracts to help them grow. This created a number of entrepreneurs who had a chance to earn some good, legitimate money in whatever firm they set up and charge exorbitantly for “special” services as needed. Most of these had some operational experience and had been hired for their resourcefulness. They took to business like ducks to water with a nice, financial side line in security supply, all covered by the Official Secrets Act, each licensed by the government and some with European licenses. As the UK joined the European Union the whole scheme was expanded throughout friendly EU governments.
The rules were simple - no deals with foreign governments who were not in the scheme, no dealings with terrorists or organized crime. Any lack of discretion would lead to expulsion, imprisonment or death.
The Grey Man had worked on the security aspects, constantly refining and improving them, keeping The Firm and everyone in it secret, creating distance and firewalls between suppliers and customers. The latest incarnation involved the internet and everything now was processed on-line.
The Firm was set up for government use but such was the shady world it dealt with, there were also private special customers who were semi-official, essentially acting on their own and could be disowned. New laws forcing governments to be more open with the public, caused more so called ‘private clients’ to be set up.
To be a private client of The Firm, operating within the charter, but maybe to the left or right of various official government policy, you needed to deposit a minimum of £1 million in a Swiss bank account. This allowed you access to all services after extensive checks on your bona fides. Dropping below the £1 million meant expulsion, possibly never to return. Most of these “specials,” had tens of millions of pounds on deposit and conducted significant operations utilizing the select services of The Firm.
All documents were legitimate but on a strict time limit, utilizing a back door system from security printers who would overrun specific base documents, the details filled in on-line, so paper and hard security devices were all legit and very useful. There was even a program that allowed a backdated register on official data bases if the document had to come from government sources. If anyone checked, these documents were real. The back dates would expire after set dates to ensure no traceability.
To contact The Firm was simple. Initial contact was through an encrypted web page with the encryption constantly changing. The customer had to use a special laptop which was synchronized with The Firm and controlled by The Grey Man.
The customer typed in their needs and the request was given a code number which was bounced round a number of hubs before arriving at the controller’s desk who checked the security system to ensure everything was correct. However, he would not know the name or address of the customer, just the number and the fact they were kosher. The customer did not know the controller, ensuring absolute anonymity. They could be the government of any EU country or an individual.
The controller read the request and then looked for companies in the area that could supply the specific needs. These were numbered again so he had no idea who he/she was dealing with, just that they offered the service required and were approved. He/she then contacted the company through an encrypted email server, set up the service that had been requested by the customer and then sent them whatever they needed, telephone numbers, addresses of safe houses, front and fall back places, etc. Now dealing directly with the controller but through many firewalls, the customer on a specific operation could ask for anything.
It was an incredible system. Almost foolproof. There had been some problems in the early days but no more than the system that had been run by the government. The main issue facing The Firm today was that the original founders were getting old and finding replacements with the same skills was becoming hard. The Grey Man and Collins were very active in training and lecturing.
The Grey Man’s biggest problem was his success. He knew too much and was a potential security risk and for the past fifteen years had been hunted for his knowledge. But the rewards for him had been immense.
The power of The Firm had become almost immeasurable. If anyone had complete control there was virtually nothing they could not do. The Grey Man, realizing this, had set up early on, a power sharing scheme across all the main governmental players. The details of any major operations were sent to everyone thus ensuring that The Firm could not be used internally for any one country’s benefit and there was a series of controls and measures to limit the excesses of any one member. So whilst terrorists and criminals could be targeted, anyone trying to expand their government territories by spying on another friendly government could be bought to task.
This situation had worked well and The Grey Man acted as chief moderator, being the only human who knew the extent of The Firm’s reach. A few heads of security services had attempted to push the limits and The Grey Man had been ruthless in stopping any rule breaking and bringing the attention of the culprit to the rest of the committe
e.
However, this did not make The Grey Man popular and he had been hunted over the years by various fractions because he who had The Grey Man, had The Firm.
Chapter 4
Life Goes On
Sir Thomas Robertson was a tall, fit, good looking man approaching his sixtieth birthday. He had been head of the British Secret Service for nearly five years and was universally known inside the organization as ‘C’. Outwardly a calm pleasant man, he secretly craved power and was determined to ensure the British Secret Service regained its rightful place as the leader of covert intelligence gathering and clandestine operations around the world. He had a plan on how this was to be achieved but it had one large stumbling block, the shadowy figure known as The Grey Man. You see, Sir Thomas Robertson wanted the power of The Firm to be under his private control.
Sir Thomas knew that The Grey Man was always watching to ensure none of the principle government organizations in Europe overstepped the mark and so he had been very careful with all his dealings with The Firm, biding his time, gathering information piece by piece and trying as hard as he could to keep tabs on The Grey Man. Nominally The Grey Man worked for the British Secret Service but somehow he was part of it and above it. Sir Thomas constantly looked for any weakness, any chink in his armour.
That morning he felt he might have found it. As part of the MI6 rules, each operative had to undertake a full medical each year and standing in front of him now was the specialist doctor who looked after the senior staff. Sir Thomas had ensured all the results of The Grey Man’s medicals went to him first and the doctor had asked for a meeting to discuss The Grey Man’s latest check up.
The doctor was in his early thirties and very confident. Quite used to the halls of power and the secret world, he was also highly ambitious and saw himself going a long way in the Secret Service. He knew The Grey Man was special and only a few got to meet him and he revelled in the kudos this gave him, especially now there was an issue which had got him an interview with ‘God’.
“What can I do for you?” asked C.
“I thought I should let you know there is a problem with our ‘Special Operative’” said the doctor. “He has an abnormality in his eyes, a small level of cloudiness with some scaring and his eye pressure is very high. I was pretty certain it was the first sign of glaucoma, which if not treated relatively quickly will lead to blindness so I did a number of extra tests which came back today confirming my worse suspicions. Unless treated urgently, he will lose his eyesight within a matter of weeks.”
“How did he take it?” asked C.
“Oh, I haven’t told him. I have come straight to you,” replied the doctor.
“Quite right,” said C “You did the correct thing. I suggest you leave this to me and I will get an eye specialist to look at him immediately. Well done for picking this up and letting me know.”
The doctor was shocked, rare praise indeed. He felt he had just climbed another step of the promotion ladder.
“Thank you,” he said with a large beaming smile on his face. “Just doing my duty.” Realizing he was now dismissed, he quickly turned and let himself out.
C waited a few minutes then called the head of HR, Johnson, who had a long relationship with C.
“I have a problem” he said. “That doctor who does the medicals looks like a quack to me. I want him replaced. Is there some corner of the old empire we could send him?”
Johnson reading through the lines asked, “How quick do you want him gone Sir Thomas?”
“Yesterday,” replied C.
Johnson thought for a minute and said, “I have a place on an Antarctic snooping ship that leaves in a couple of days. They want a doctor. It means he would be out of communication for a few months.”
“Perfect,” said C. “Dress it up for me will you? Maybe throw in a small promotion so no hard feelings and a bunch of flowers to the wife.”
“Will do,” said Johnson, “Who do you want to replace him here?”
“Oh, anyone,” said C. “I am not fussed.”
C looked at his watch. It was just gone 3.00pm. He called Joan, his secretary. “Joan, can you bring me a large gin and tonic,” he said.
“Bit early,” she replied “Are you celebrating?”
“Sort of,” said C. “Sort of.” He then opened up his laptop and typed ‘glaucoma’ into the search engine. “Time for a little research,” he thought.
. . . . . .
Once Collins was on the plane he continued to think of what might be next for him. He decided that he would need to find something useful to do if he was to live his life without his wife. Start with something small perhaps and build back up.
To detach herself from The Assassin’s life and to give herself independence and the ability to bring up Jonathan with some level of normality, she had run a small corner shop which is where she was murdered. The Assassin had run the shop afterwards to draw the killers out and in its own way he had enjoyed the experience. “Why not start there?” he thought.
The shop had been closed whilst he and Jonathan had travelled so he called up his cousin’s boy, Ely, who had worked there and asked him to open up first thing in the morning and he would meet him there. With that decision made he felt better. He travelled home, cooked himself a simple meal of cheese on toast and went to bed having the best night’s sleep for weeks.
The next morning Collins woke early and drove to the shop which was situated in a poor area of London at the end of a strip of other small shops. It looked the same as when they had left it and he and Ely opened up and then cleared out anything out of date and started to reorder new stock. By mid-afternoon he was quite busy as all the regulars came in wanting to know why it had been closed and Collins explained he had been on holiday. The next day and for the next few weeks the shop became routine for him, just busy enough to keep his mind from dwelling on the past and he started to settle into a pattern. He had offered Ely the shop before he went to Israel but Ely knew he could not cope and was happy being an errand boy and helping out.
One young girl, who stood out amongst all of the customers, had a baby in a pram and a toddler. She shopped often, never buying much. She looked lonely and a little sad. She sometimes stopped to ask Collins how he was doing and they exchanged a few words which passed the time of day. They had a business relationship passed on from his wife, with Collins often offering goods on credit until her social security cheque came and when it did, she always paid up promptly.
One day Collins asked her name and she said it was Olivia and from then on she called him Mr Collins and he called her Olivia. Collins knew she was very poor but had always admired the quiet dignity she carried. In one so young he knew it had been earnt the hard way and he suspected her childhood had finished a long time ago.
As the weeks and months passed he started to get contacted by his old life. Initially ‘The Firm’ wanted him to run some training courses but lately he had begun to take specific assignments again, assassinating various terrorists and criminal leaders and people found to be working against the European governments interests. Usually all the ground work was done by The Grey Man and his gang of intelligence operators, with Collins being brought in to execute the hit.
This meant Ely was now being left alone in the shop too often and after Collins returned from his latest mission, Ely explained that he could not cope on his own and either he got help or he would have to leave.
That afternoon Olivia came in for her shopping and Collins asked if she wanted to go upstairs for a cup of tea. The look she gave him would have turned most men to stone.
“No, no,” he said. “I just want to talk a bit of business.”
With that she nearly hit him.
“Not that kind,” he said, “A job. Nothing more I assure you.”
She left the baby asleep in his pram near Ely who was working at the till and carried the toddler up to the small kitchen. Collins made her some tea and they both settled down.
“Tell me
about yourself,” he said.
“Nothing much to say,” she replied. “I was born around here, went to school near here, got knocked up around here and was kicked out by my parents around here. Now I live in a little council flat, me, Ben and Tom.”
“No husband or boyfriend?” asked Collins.
“No. Not anymore.”
“What do you do with your time?”
“Not a lot. I only have the dole and that just covers necessities so it is the television, the park or here.”
“Have you ever had a job?”
“Once, when I was fourteen I worked on a market stall selling vegetables but that didn’t last long. The problem I have now if I wanted to work is what do I do with the kids?”
Collins thought for a moment.
“Look I have a problem,” he said. “I have this job in the shop and another import/export business that takes up a lot of my time. Ely is not capable of running this business but I am loath to let it go. What I need is a manager who will take it on. Are you interested?”
“What me? Did you not hear? What will I do with the kids?”
“Well, I thought you could move into this flat above the shop and bring them up here. My son was and I cannot see why Ben and Tom would not thrive here.”
She gave him an old fashioned look. Once again he had to explain himself.
To Kill a Grey Man Page 2