The Hunt series Boxset 2

by Tim Heath

  “Yes, sir, we have people tailing everyone they’re talking to. We’re gathering as much information as we can, as well as tapping into the local criminal underworld.” That was always sensible. There was nothing like the thought of outsiders stepping onto someone’s turf to get the locals onside. They could most often flush out anyone that didn’t belong faster than most.

  “Very good. Keep up the good work, and I’ll speak with you again tomorrow morning.” Matvey hung up, there was no point in speaking longer to these people than he needed. They all had better things to get on with.

  Forty minutes later he was dropped outside the front entrance to his hotel––an expensive and impressive structure in the heart of London. He was greeted by name at the door by a member of staff––he’d stayed there just once before, but that type of service was on par for such hotels––and was then taken directly up to his suite. His bags arrived moments after he’d been shown around the three-roomed complex. He was mildly impressed.

  They then left him in peace. Matvey opened the door onto the balcony––a splendid view of the River Thames greeted him, the London Eye large and prominent along the water’s edge, the Houses of Parliament just beyond. Further down the Thames, at the point where the river twisted from view, sat Vauxhall House, home to MI6.

  It was a member of the British Security Service that Matvey had on his mind at that moment.

  Picking up a few sheets of information––his teams knew how much he valued detailed reports on anyone and anything he requested them to look into––Matvey read up everything there was on Alex Tolbert. He began with his suspected involvement during specific Hunt events, where he was at best just watching from the sidelines with his eternal colleague Anissa Edison. He had information on her, too, though Matvey’s mind had been focused on Alex since he had landed in London that morning.

  Matvey read about all the recent troubles––the death of the journalist Wilson Manning was included in the report, despite it not being public knowledge. Matvey had always invested heavily over the decades to have people––his people––in the right places for just the right time. That had produced brilliant results in the cases of Phelan McDermott and Maggie Thompson. The first affair between those two––nothing to do with him but he’d indeed noted it, as he did with every single flaw he saw in anybody he had investigated––had been the way into Maggie’s final employer. By forcing Phelan back into Maggie’s life, Matvey had used the affair to make her call in the loan made to the Meridian Capital Union, a Union ultimately controlled by Dmitry Kaminski––fellow Russian billionaire and a rival candidate in the Russian Presidential election.

  Matvey made a series of calls as the afternoon pushed on, boats of various sizes moving up and down the river as the Russian stood watching, mostly from behind his closed windows, the outdoor air chilly and uninviting. The calls were to ascertain the latest situation regarding Alex––he knew that the British agent had been given gardening leave from his post within MI6. He needed to know who was behind it and why. His suspicions lay with Mark Orlov, as there didn’t appear to be any other people or groups with interest in the agent. As Matvey did with everything, if he could work these situations, he would turn them to his advantage. If somebody’s freedom or condemnation were within his control, subject to his say-so, Matvey had found over the decades that both were excellent motivators to get people doing precisely what he wanted.

  And Alex was his next target.

  It was that evening when Matvey made his approach. He had watched the female companion just leave––he knew immediately who she was.

  “How interesting,” Matvey said aloud, the fact Anastasia Kaminski was seen coming out of the same building where Alex Tolbert lived, was indeed no coincidence. Matvey had been informed that she was most likely having an affair with someone––Matvey had people prying into the lives of all the men he was up against, which included Kaminski––but to make that connection to MI6’s very own Alex, made things all the more fascinating. He logged that piece of information.

  Matvey entered the building alone, his team with him told to wait outside in the car. What he was about to discuss with Alex wasn’t for them to hear.

  Alex opened the door with a smile––he’d almost certainly been assuming it was Anastasia returning, no doubt realising she’d forgotten something or wanting yet one more kiss goodbye––though Alex’s smile quickly dropped from his face, as he stood there dumbfounded. Alex recognised immediately who it was standing in front of him.

  “Alex, I take it you know who I am. Can I come in and speak with you?” Matvey asked, after a few seconds of awkward silence. Alex didn’t say a word, but stepped to one side, allowing the oligarch to enter, Alex glancing both ways down the corridor before he shut the door.

  “It’s just me, and you have nothing to worry about, Alex,” Matvey said, catching the British agent checking who else was around. Alex, however, knew he had plenty to worry about because of the exact man now standing in his apartment.

  “Why the hell are you here?”

  “Please, I’ve come to talk––to help you in fact. Can we sit down?” and Matvey was already making his way into the lounge, which was reasonably tidy, though the door to the bedroom revealed sheets that had not been put back into place. Two wine glasses sat on the bedside table. Alex followed behind Matvey, taking a seat on the sofa opposite the Russian. He felt more vulnerable than he had done in a long time, though he didn’t feel he was in any imminent danger. He could handle himself in most physical confrontations and had youth on his side with Matvey. Alex had no weapons of his own at home, besides a set of cooking knives in the kitchen which sat ten feet away to his left. He eyed them casually but sank back into the sofa.

  “I’ve read a lot about you, Alex,” Matvey said. Matvey had, in fact, been watching Alex for many years, having pointed his son in the MI6 agent’s direction when contact first needed to be made, when he required the passing on of necessary information.

  “Likewise,” Alex replied, cold and direct. There was an edginess to him, as if he knew his secrets were no doubt obvious to Matvey Filipov at that moment. The biggest secret had left just minutes before––surely he’d seen her. Maybe that was how he’d found Alex, by following the wayward wife of Dmitry Kaminski?

  “I’m not here to threaten you,” which wasn’t exactly true. There always had to be a threat, a means of punishment. That was how Matvey managed to control so many people. Though he would never call it threatening anyone. “I’m here to help you.”

  “Help me?”

  “I’ve some information on an attack that is imminent. Extremely high profile individuals, whose death would rock the heart of Europe, an attack designed to tear the European Union apart.” Matvey knew no such fact, though he’d always been one to elaborate a little.

  “Why don’t you take this directly to Six?”

  “And spoil my fun? I think it’s better if it comes from you. Besides, I’m just another of your informants. We both know you’ll pass on whatever information I need you to.”

  “I’m sure you know I’m under suspension at the moment.” Alex had no doubt Matvey did know that––how he knew, Alex dreaded to think.

  “Only a temporary blip, I’m certain. You’ll be back in no time––and I have the proof you need.”

  “Proof?”

  “That you had nothing to do with the murder of that journalist.”

  “You have proof?” Alex sounded incredulous for the first time––and suddenly fearful. He didn’t want to owe Matvey anything, he’d seen first hand where that had led so many others before him. Some of these people were already dead.

  “Proof.” Matvey didn’t reveal any more. “And I’ll keep the affair you are having with Anastasia Kaminski our little secret, for good measure.” The sound of her name, coming from his lips, hit like a hammer blow. Alex could sense the screw turning already.

  “You can’t threaten me!”

  “Threaten? Now, now
, Alex. I’m helping you. Here I am saying I’ll give you information on a terrorist attack happening in just a few days, and suddenly I’m threatening you?”

  “It’s blackmail, and you bloody well know it!” Alex said, his pulse racing, though he immediately knew that the outburst wouldn’t help him. It would only serve to prove to Matvey that he had Alex under control. That yet again, he’d won. Matvey stood, wandering around the lounge. Very few personal effects were on show and not a single photo.

  “So do we have an understanding?” Matvey said, having paused beside Alex’s music collection, looking disapprovingly through the first dozen or so albums.

  “You give me the information––if that is what you want to do––and I’ll inform the office. There is no agreement, I don’t owe you anything.”

  “Fair enough,” Matvey said, instantly making for the door. Alex instinctively reached out and grabbed him by the elbow.

  “Hold on,” Alex said reluctantly, and immediately Matvey knew he had him.

  Twenty minutes later, Matvey was leaving, their meeting concluded. After stopping Matvey from going right away, Alex had put the kettle on, his demeanour changed and had heard out the Russian. Alex couldn’t shift the thought that his apparent involvement––or innocence as it really was––in the murder of the journalist was always there, not front and centre, but available, should Alex fail to do what he was being asked. And all he was being proposed by Matvey at that moment was to report the planned attack at a centennial event happening soon in Tallinn.

  Alex had heard about the event only a little in passing––the security element from the UK perspective was being handled by MI5. This was because those who would attend––the Foreign Secretary was the highest ranked government figure––already had agents from Five in place, and it made more sense for these same people to travel with the group. There had been a short mention of it all at Six a month or so ago, so it wasn’t the first Alex had heard about Estonia’s one hundred year celebration event.

  Though what Matvey shared of the dangers that faced them all, was new to him.

  Matvey had promised to pass along more information as soon as he had it. He was hoping to be able to deliver the exact plan of attack long before the British could, once more proving how far ahead of the curve he was.

  Standing in the doorway, the door open slightly though Matvey had yet to walk out, Alex asked one final question.

  “Can you get me the information on who took out Thomas Price?” It was a long shot. Price, the former Deputy Director General, had been killed on the day of Putin’s last visit to London. MI6 had been monitoring the President’s convoy as it travelled from one venue towards Downing Street, where he was due to meet with the Prime Minister over lunch. Alex and the team had lost sight of the convoy for about twenty minutes. Then it appeared again, continuing its journey and that day’s arrangements. Putin had been on the flight back to Moscow that evening.

  During that day, Price had been murdered, his body found that evening, and identity confirmed only the following morning.

  The time of death didn’t fit with the time that Putin’s convoy had been AWOL. It was highly probable they’d been in the location where the body was found, but the reports showed Putin himself was already at Number 10 when Price had been killed. Alex strongly suspected it was someone linked to Putin, though they had all travelled together for the entire day. Maybe a freelance killer? The hit was itself a warning to the British government––do not interfere with Russian politics. Price had been working with Dmitry Kaminski for a long time, grooming the Russian to become a future President, a man the West, and in particular, the UK could work with.

  Then Price had been killed.

  Matvey smiled at Alex’s request. “Yes, I’ll look into it and give you a definitive name of who it was that killed your Deputy Director General.” He didn’t need to look into anything, however. He’d arranged the hit himself.

  17

  Tallinn, Estonia

  February 23rd

  It was the day before the nation’s centennial celebration, and those foreign dignitaries––mostly European based––who weren’t only coming on the day itself, had already arrived in the Estonian capital.

  Three days before, Alex had called Anissa and informed her of everything he’d been told by Matvey––she’d been alarmed to hear he had met the Russian in person, the words of Phelan still ringing fresh in her ears. She put that to one side.

  MI5 was made aware of the threat, and precautions were put in place until they knew anything more specific. The Foreign Secretary was made to pull out at the last minute––illness given as the reason––though others who were already planning to go were left to do so, there to represent Great Britain. They would be closely monitored by their MI5 minders.

  Anissa was part of the MI6 task force which was sent over to tackle the bigger picture. Nothing more specific had yet come through from Matvey––they were very much in his hands––as the British agents settled into their hotel. Charlie Boon and his colleague Zoe had also been sent, and Anissa had been discussing the information she had with them both on the flight over.

  Alex wasn’t due back to work for another few days––his gardening leave officially cancelled––but not in enough time to be overtly part of that trip. He had, however, travelled independently to Tallinn, something Anissa had only shared with Charlie and Zoe, and something to be kept between them. Alex said he would make contact with Anissa once they were settled in Tallinn, and he would be better able to dig in and look around because he wasn’t part of the British ranks. He also had the direct connection to Matvey.

  Only Anissa knew who was feeding Alex the intelligence.

  It was a game of cat and mouse, however. Tallinn was to become the latest epicentre in a battle for power that might cost many lives before it was settled. The Russian elections were still some weeks away, with everything to play for.

  Mark Orlov––who’d lived his life one step ahead of everyone else for as long as he could remember––had a team watching the team that Matvey Filipov had sent. He’d used that situation to reveal certain things. The Machine was too valuable to allow someone like Filipov to take them on single-handedly. They now knew that was precisely what Matvey intended to do.

  Maybe Mark shouldn’t have killed Andre?

  That mattered little to him now. He’d never been a man to dwell on the past. What mattered most was keeping them all guessing, until it was too late. Like a magician performing a trick before a crowd, he had to keep them all looking a certain way when really the magic was happening elsewhere. And with his teams coming and going, various meetings and conversations taking place, that was exactly what his people had been doing. As his own men were following the men Matvey had sent, Mark figured he knew what Matvey would now be thinking. Matvey would think the hit would be a sniper, located in one of several hotels they’d visited––it always paid to have multiple options, different locations––from a room offering a clear line of sight to the square.

  The weapon purchases had lent weight to this idea. Matvey had even tracked the man who’d arrived the day before to make the hit––someone Matvey had once used himself, too. There’d been various communications as to who the target was––a President here or a Prime Minister there. All smoke and mirrors.

  It was that evening, the sun already down, some music playing from one of the towers as the Estonian flag was lowered from its flagpole, that Alex appeared in the crowd. Anissa had been standing with Charlie and Zoe––just three friends killing some free time. They greeted each other warmly––unlike the temperature around them at that moment.

  “It’s good to see you again,” Charlie said, shaking Alex’s hand, sharing a sentiment they all felt. Charlie knew all about being left out in the cold when it came to Six.

  “Have you heard anything?” Anissa asked after the small talk had finished.

  “Nothing yet, which worries me.” The city was already showing si
gns of preparation for the following day. Roads were marked up with signs stating when they would be closed, metal railings were being erected on Freedom Square itself, and outside multiple car washes lines of army vehicles waited for their turn at being made to shine. There was a happy, positive vibe. It was the sort of feeling that came with once in a lifetime events.

  The four agents walked around the Old Town, mostly four abreast, though sometimes the narrow alleyways didn’t allow that, and the two men would drop back, letting the ladies go in front. They had another hour––there was a final briefing scheduled for nine that night at the hotel––which gave the four time for a quick drink together somewhere before Alex would need to say goodbye.

  Before Alex left, Anissa had been sent through confirmation that everyone had now arrived in Tallinn who was meant to be there. The only noticeable exceptions had been the British and German leaders, and no one had been invited from Russia, relations frosty in recent years, and this celebration marked the country’s original split from them in the first place.

  Taking Alex to one side, Anissa had a quick word.

  “Phelan McDermott came to see me the other week.”

  “The Irishman?” Alex had never been as clued in as Anissa had regarding the names of those involved, but even he couldn’t forget that name.

  “He warned me about Filipov.”

  “That’s a bit rich coming from someone who's done so much of his dirty work.”

  “It wasn’t like that, I don’t think. Matvey used Phelan.”

  “The man became a millionaire because of his connection to Matvey, and he’s hardly innocent with regard to the role he played with Maggie Thompson, is he?”

  Anissa couldn’t help feeling they were coming at this from opposite sides––she in Phelan’s corner, Alex in Matvey’s.