‘First off,’ he said, ‘you can drop the Major bit. I’m Ben. Second, you don’t seem to have a lot of proof. Third, why are three ex-agents pursuing a private investigation of a man with a record as clean as Harry’s when their superiors have already dropped the case? It looks to me like a personal vendetta.’
Valentine nodded. ‘It is.’ Her fingers brushed the back of the photo on the desk. ‘Let me tell you about Linda. She was only twenty-six. She’d been with us on the case just three months. I put her on the team because she was a star linguist, spoke perfect Russian, Spanish and any number of African languages. She was the perfect close surveillance operative. She could get in anywhere.’ Valentine paused, and a look of sadness passed over her face. ‘Algeria, seven weeks ago. I had a report from her. She said she’d finally got the evidence that was going to put Paxton away.’
‘What evidence?’ Ben asked.
‘That’s just it,’ Valentine sighed. ‘I never saw it. Linda didn’t turn up at the RV. Three days later she was found ninety miles away up the coast. It looked like the sharks had got her. You’ve seen the picture.’
‘How do you know the sharks didn’t get her?’
Valentine shook her head vigorously. ‘Because it doesn’t add up. An eyewitness reported that she was dancing and flirting drunkenly with two guys in some strip joint the night before, a mile from where her body was found. The official story is she went off with them. But it’s all wrong.’
‘Maybe she did,’ Ben said. ‘Maybe you just want to believe there’s more to it.’
‘Linda wouldn’t have gone off with two guys she met in a bar,’ Valentine said. ‘They wouldn’t have been her type.’
‘You know that for a fact?’
Valentine looked at him sharply. ‘She was gay. I know that for a fact. A personal fact,’ she added meaningfully. ‘And I know she wasn’t there. Paxton had her butchered and the whole story was concocted to cover his tracks. That’s how he works. And we’re going to get the fucker. For what his trade does to innocent victims everywhere, and for what he did to Linda.’ Valentine’s face was tight with rage. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she brushed it away. ‘We’re going to do whatever it takes to nail him.’
Ben didn’t reply.
‘That’s where you come in,’ Wolff said. ‘We’re on our own here. We desperately need help from someone Paxton trusts.’
‘And you were hoping that, based on no evidence at all, I was going to betray him.’ Ben turned to Zara. ‘How can you listen to these people?’
Zara came over to where he was sitting and crouched down on the floor next to him. She held his hand tightly. ‘You’ve got to believe them, Ben. When I met Harry, I could only see his charm. But that’s not who he is. He’s a monster. A tyrant. He’s the most evil, cruel, dominating man ever born.’
‘We approached Zara four weeks ago,’ Valentine said. ‘We’d been watching them whenever they were on shore together. We could see they were arguing a lot. We took a chance.’
Zara looked deep into Ben’s eyes. ‘Do you remember that day we were together? When I told you I wanted to leave him but couldn’t because of Morgan’s death?’
‘I remember,’ Ben said.
‘It wasn’t because of Morgan. It was because of what Kim, Jimmy and Udo told me. They showed me terrible pictures, of African children whose arms and legs had been shot off with guns that had been bought from Harry. Little bodies covered in horrible burns, faces disfigured. Villages that had just been destroyed, along with everyone in them. That’s what he does, Ben. That’s where all the money comes from. How was I supposed to just walk away?’
‘You’re just taking their word for it.’
‘No. After I agreed to help them, I started trying to look around the Scimitar. Down in one of the cargo holds, I found these crates. Big locked brown metal boxes with white stencilled writing on them. Then I heard voices. Harry and some others. I hid. I couldn’t see them, but they were talking about a shipment. I heard the sound of them opening one of the crates, and a kind of gun sound.’
‘A kind of gun sound?’ Ben said sceptically.
‘A sound like this,’ Harrison said. He took a Colt .45 auto from under his jacket. With his left hand he racked back the slide on the large, stainless steel automatic and released it with a metallic shlack-clack.
‘Just like that,’ Zara said.
‘I think that’s called leading the witness,’ Ben said.
‘Let her speak,’ Valentine cut in.
‘When they left, I sneaked away. When it was safe, I went back down there with a camera. The crates had gone.’
‘That’s what I call real hard evidence,’ Ben said.
Valentine looked uncomfortable. ‘We know. We haven’t got a shred. That’s why we came up with the plan to get me onto the Scimitar. It’s very rare for Paxton to let anyone on board. Zara told us about your meeting. We checked you out. Your military background, your wife’s murder. I had a feeling you’d be the kind of man who would help out a lady in distress.’
‘I was a fool to,’ Ben said.
‘I thought you were a hero,’ Valentine replied. ‘I was sorry we had to trick you. But there was really no other way.’
‘Why trust me now? How do you know I’m not working with Harry?’
‘We thought of that. It didn’t figure.’
‘Maybe I was just too clever for you, the way you claim Harry is.’
‘We thought of that too. But thanks to Zara we have a recording of your talk with Paxton. It’s pretty clear from the conversation that you’re not involved with his business. You went to Cairo for him, but you didn’t kill those men. We know about the citizen’s arrest, too. As far as we’re concerned, you’re clean. Clean, but very interesting.’
Ben glared at Zara.
She squeezed his hand. ‘I’m sorry I spied on you. We had to know.’
‘And I take it you didn’t find anything during your little snooping expedition,’ Ben said, turning back to Valentine. ‘Or you wouldn’t be talking to me now.’
Valentine sighed. ‘I was hoping I could find something on his personal computer. I sneaked into his study and fitted a miniature keystroker with a transmitting device. That way, we can intercept everything he writes. But guess what? He hasn’t written a word.’
And guess what? I’ve had enough of this conversation. It’s a joke.’
‘We can’t let you go,’ Wolff said.
Ben looked at him hard. ‘If you try to stop me, everyone in this room except Zara is dead.’
‘He doesn’t mean it that way,’ Valentine said. ‘He means you can’t leave without letting us tell you the truth about Harry Paxton.’
‘Seems to me you just gave it your best shot,’ Ben said. ‘And failed.’
‘There’s more to tell. By the time I’m finished, I guarantee you’ll see him in a whole new light. You’ll realise you don’t even know him.’
‘I served with him. I fought alongside him. I think I know him a hell of a lot better than you do.’
‘And he also saved your life,’ Valentine said. ‘Sierra Leone, May 14th, 1997. Right?’
‘Right.’
‘Wrong.’
He glowered at her. ‘What did you say?’
‘I told you you weren’t going to like it. You’re going to have to make some mental adjustments.’
‘I know the truth.’
She shook her head. ‘You believe in a lie. Harry Paxton, then a Lieutenant Colonel with the Special Air Service, did not save your life that day. You were just supposed to think he did.’
‘I didn’t see you there that day, Valentine. Where were you, hiding under a stone? I’m the only witness to the fact that Harry saved my life. He shot the Cross Bones captain who was just about to kill me. He was awarded decorations and promotion for it.’
‘There was another witness,’ Valentine said. ‘One who saw the whole thing. Someone who wasn’t shot to pieces and half unconscious when it all happened. So
meone whose testimony holds up a lot better than yours.’
‘Who?’
‘His name is Tinashe. He was sixteen when your SAS squad attacked the Makapela Creek mission in Sierra Leone. He was a member of the Cross Bones Boys militia. One of the many youngsters brainwashed by The Baron into killing.’
‘A great witness. A brainwashed murderer, sixteen years old.’
‘He’s a different person now. In some ways, it’s thanks to you. After that day, it was like the spell broke. He ran away from the Cross Bones militia and swore he’d never get sucked into anything like that again. That’s why he was so hard to find. It took us a long time to track him down. Shall I tell you what he saw that day-what really happened?’
Ben tried to control the anger that made him want to tear the room apart. ‘Let’s have it,’ he said coldly.
‘Tinashe was frightened by the battle. He managed to crawl into the hollow of a dead tree. From there he had an open view of the ruined schoolhouse.’
Ben felt a stab of shock at the words. In any official archived report that Valentine might have been able to access, the scene of the battle was described as the mission complex at Makapela Creek. There’d never been any mention of the schoolhouse. He could feel his insides churning.
Valentine went on. ‘According to my witness, most of the militia force fled when the air support arrived on the scene. Does that sound accurate?’
‘It’s perfectly accurate.’
‘So far, so good,’ Valentine replied. ‘Now let me tell you the rest. It was at that moment, just after the helicopters came in, that the witness saw Lieutenant Colonel Paxton walk up behind you and your teammate, later named in the official report as Sergeant Gary Smith. But Paxton wasn’t alone. He was with the Cross Bones second-in-command, Captain Kananga.’
Ben was too stunned and furious to do anything but listen.
‘The witness then saw Paxton shoot you in the back, then shoot Smith. Smith went down. Then Paxton walked over to you as Kananga watched. You had gone down on your face, but you rolled over and were looking up at Paxton as he was about to kill you.’ Valentine paused. ‘Is this detailed enough for you? No way we could have known all this, correct?’
Ben didn’t answer.
‘Smith was almost dead from Paxton’s bullet, but not quite. He still had enough reserves of energy to let off a burst of fire. It took down Kananga and it caught Paxton in the arm. Smith’s the man who really saved your life that day, Major Hope. He’s the one you should be honouring.’
Ben was silent.
‘Paxton turned around and shot him in the head. That’s the point where you passed out. Your colonel would have put one in your brain, but that’s when the troops from 1 Para had touched down and were moving through the wreckage. Paxton had to let you live.’
Ben’s heart was pounding. It was hard to breathe. ‘Why?’ was all he could say.
‘Can’t you guess what it’s about? Paxton was supplying arms to the Cross Bones Boys. Among many other rebel groups he was trading with, using the army as his cover. While your unit was twiddling its thumbs in the Embassy in Freetown waiting for the green light, he was sneaking away and doing business with The Baron. Guns for conflict diamonds.’
‘The Makapela Creek operation was a trap,’ Wolff said from his armchair. ‘We think that Paxton suspected someone from your unit was onto him. We think he deliberately engineered the intelligence leak that led to the assault, so that your team could be ambushed and wiped out. Paxton was meant to be the sole survivor. As it turned out, you managed to slip through the net.’
‘Think about it,’ Valentine said. ‘It all makes perfect sense. There’s nothing in the witness account that you can deny. And his testimony would have been enough to bring Paxton down.’ She sighed. ‘But the problem we have is that Tinashe’s too scared to talk openly. Even now, the child soldiers who helped in the genocide of the Sierra Leone Civil War are hated by their own people-even though they were victims too. There have been reprisals, revenge killings. They’ve become like some kind of untouchable underclass. Tinashe is one of the lucky ones. He’s managed to leave his past behind and he wants to keep it that way. Which leaves us with you. You’re the only one left who can help us.’ She looked at him earnestly, searchingly. ‘So will you? Please?’
There was dead silence in the room as Ben sat and digested the whole thing. A whole minute went by. His mind was bursting.
He stood up. ‘No. You’re all lying.’ He headed for the door.
Zara rushed after him, grabbing at his arm. ‘Ben, wait—’
He brushed her away. ‘Leave me alone.’ He crashed through the door and walked out into the dingy hallway. She ran out after him, pleading and protesting. ‘Please, Ben. I love you.’
He stopped. ‘Do you?’
She looked as if she’d been slapped.
‘You’ve done nothing but lie to me and use me,’ he said. ‘So that your little friends could spy on the man who saved my life.’ He started back up the hallway, heading for the front door.
‘What was I supposed to do?’ she screamed.
He didn’t reply. Reached the front door and tore it open.
‘Where are you going?’
‘As far away from you as I can possibly get,’ he said. ‘Go back to your cronies in there, Zara. They’re waiting for you.’ He stepped outside into the rainy night and slammed the door in her face.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ben drove the twenty minutes to the underground parking lot in a daze, and was barely conscious of parking the Mini and stumbling up the concrete steps to his safehouse. He managed to key in the code for the door, and staggered into the flat. The pistol was a hard lump against his hip. He tore it out of his belt and flung it away.
Heading straight for the kitchen, he tore open the cupboard door and snatched one of the bottles of table wine. He stood there balancing it in his hand, for a moment unable to decide whether to open it or hurl it through the window. He opened it. Filled a glass. Paced up and down, fists clenched, wanting to smash something. Wanting to punch the wall until his knuckles were a bleeding mess.
Then he slumped at the table and downed one glass after another. The bottle seemed to empty itself in seconds. He grabbed another and started on that one.
His head was spinning feverishly. It wasn’t the wine or even the fact that he hadn’t slept properly for days. He felt completely overwhelmed by the things he’d just been told.
After a while, he walked in a stupor to the bedroom, fell back on the bed and closed his eyes. He lay there, trying to shut down his thoughts and relax the cramping tension in his muscles.
Slowly, he began to drift. Thoughts blurred. He slept, but it wasn’t a restful sleep. He was back reliving the horror of Makapela Creek once again.
The nightmare unfolded in slow motion. Ben saw the figure walk out of the fire, gun in hand as he gazed down at the man he was about to kill.
But something had changed. Now there were two men standing over Ben and, instead of the faceless, nebulous forms that normally visited him in his dreams, now he could see them vividly. Two men, one African and one European. The black man was powerfully built, wearing khaki fatigues, and the ArmaLite rifle cradled in his arms looked shiny and new and glittered in the firelight.
It was Kananga. He was glancing nervously this way and that, up at the helicopters that were closing in on the mission complex, then across at the dark jungle as though anxious to follow his fleeing men. Let’s get this done, his expression said.
Beside him stood a tall, thin white man in SAS tropical combat uniform. Paxton. Ben was suddenly seeing him for the first time-that face so familiar and yet so alien, half bathed in the red glow of the burning mission. The eyes filled with a strange and terrifying light. The pistol in his fist rose up to point at Ben.
Ben tried to say something, but his words were a muffled echo lost in the thump of the choppers. He saw Paxton smile.
And, behind Paxton, lying in the
bloody dirt, propped up on one elbow, his face pale, shaking with the effort of raising his gun one last time, Ben saw Smith. Paxton spun as the dying soldier’s bullet caught his arm, fired back and Smith crumpled into a lifeless heap.
Then Ben was awake, jolting upright on the bed, every nerve in his body jangling. He put his head in his hands and remembered what Brooke had said. You should listen to your dreams. She’d been right. And he was listening now, seeing it clearly for the first time.
It was as though a part of his brain had awoken after a long sleep, dormant memories suddenly leaping into focus. As if, somewhere deep inside, he’d always known the truth but just hadn’t wanted to face it. Easier to repress it from his conscious mind. Easier just to stay in the comfort zone of self-deception.
The realisation left him breathless. He’d been fooling himself for years. He’d been on the verge of killing for this man, so close he could taste it. And Paxton had just been using him, exploiting a debt of honour that had never existed.
As he sat there, his mind spinning, Ben remembered what Wolff had said. Paxton thought someone in your unit was onto him.
His mind flew back, connections firing that had lain in hibernation for years, images flashing up that he’d completely wiped away. He remembered Smith. Saw the man’s face as clearly as though it had happened yesterday.
They’d been in their quarters attached to the Embassy when the sergeant had come up to him. He seemed agitated about something.
‘I need to talk to you,’ he’d said. There’d been no sirs between them.
‘Talk,’ Ben had replied. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s delicate,’ Smith had said. ‘I’m not even sure.’
Then Paxton had appeared in the doorway and suddenly Smith didn’t want to talk any more; he just lowered his eyes and shuffled away. Strange behaviour from the normally confident soldier. Ben had meant to approach him about it later on-but then they’d had the green light for the assault, and everything had started rolling so fast there’d never been another chance. After what had happened next, Ben’s memory had just blanked it out. Until now.
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