Rogue

by Mike Winter

  “I’m aware of Sarah Barnes, sir. She worked with me on a project a few years ago. She’s a good analyst, but a little unstable from a personal perspective. I understand she’s had a previous personal involvement with Black? Quite recently too, if I’ve heard correctly?”

  “Correct – and I want you to relieve her of her duties; she has crossed the line on more than one occasion, and it is putting our work in jeopardy. I want you to bring in your own comms team. TEP has been a sinking ship for a while now. Sort this mess out, and this could be a good career move for you.”

  Bennett handed Allison a file overflowing with documents. “Thank you, sir. What is the latest with the Chinese, do they know we have any involvement? I saw the incident on the news yesterday. Brutal murder the press are saying.”

  “No, and if they do start to suspect anything, our agent is cut loose, we have no ties, and we will maintain deniability.”

  “And Hamilton and Jones?”

  “Your priority is to locate both of them and bring them in. I want them on a plane back to the UK by the end of the day.”

  Allison didn’t say anything as she glanced over the files. It was clear from the brief look she gave them that Hamilton had made some questionable decisions of late and he was leaving a large mess for someone to tidy up after him.

  “I know this may sound daunting, but whatever support you need, you will have it. We have two agents in Macau who can be in Hong Kong within the next two hours. Agent Black can also be utilised following the completion of his original mission.”

  “Is there an ID on the rogue agent?”

  “Not as yet, although Black is close to identifying him according to the latest update I have. There has been some assistance from an American source. We’ve had him checked out, he’s reliable - ex CIA. Is there anything else?”

  “No, sir. I’ll make my way to TEP now.”

  Bennett smiled. His thin lips matched his eyes. “There’s a car already waiting for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No problem. Oh, Allison?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Don’t let me down.”

  12

  The Novotel lobby was becoming busier as the evening set in and Stephen Jones was becoming frustrated. There had been no sign of Hamilton, and the clock was ticking. He had just ordered his fourth tonic water from the bar, and the staff would soon start to wonder why he had been loitering there for most of the afternoon and evening.

  Jones felt a vibration in his jacket pocket. He took out his phone and answered.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr Jones, this is Kate Allison. I’ll skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point: I’m now acting head of TEP. I believe you’ve taken an unscheduled trip to Hong Kong?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jones had met Allison before. She was an opportunist. Career driven. Didn’t take bullshit. “I’m tracking Will Hamilton. He left TEP yesterday, unannounced. I believe he may be at risk.”

  “Jones,” Allison had now dispensed with the pleasantries. “You left TEP in the command of a Communication Manager – and an unreliable one at that. Let’s not forget there is an active mission underway in Hong Kong – and yours, as well as Hamilton’s actions, are putting that mission in jeopardy. There is a flight to London at 11pm. You’re booked on it. Make sure you’re on that flight. I suggest you have a long think about your actions and your future.”

  Jones knew it was pointless putting his argument across, although he had no intention of making the flight until he had caught up with Hamilton. He quietly agreed with Allison and ended the call. There would be severe repercussions following his actions, however, Jones hoped if he could get to the bottom of what was happening, maybe they would be lenient with him.

  Maybe now would be the best time to bow out. Jones had been with TEP since its inception after 9/11 and had worked closely with Hamilton. He enjoyed the job, but he had little else in his life. He joined the army when he was sixteen, progressing to the SAS before being selected for TEP. Jones had seen enough death and suffering to last more than one lifetime, although he believed in the cause. During the last six years, he’d killed more than fifty enemies on various missions and he had to believe the deaths were necessary. Each and every one of them. He’d seen other agents come and go. Some were not up to the job and were cut loose by TEP and left to rot. They had no help. They didn’t exist. Others were killed in action. Very few made it as far as Jones. He liked to think he was good at what he did, but maybe he had just got lucky.

  He had come close to death on a number of occasions; the one that always stood out to him was during a mission to Mexico. The FBI had arranged for TEP to be involved in the attempted capture of a drug kingpin operating out of Ciudad Juarez. TEP owed the FBI a favour following their help in apprehending a terrorist on the watch list in Washington. Jones had posed as a British buyer, wanting to take a large consignment of cocaine over the border to El Paso. Once he had them on side, the orders were to take out the cartel’s hierarchy. Unfortunately, there had been a leak in the Bureau, and his cover was blown resulting in his capture by Hugo Garrido, the leader of the Cartel. Jones was held and tortured for three days. His heart rate slowed so much, the Cartel thought he was dead. They untied him and he managed to escape and make it across the border. Garrido disappeared shortly after and Jones always thought their paths would cross again some day.

  A steady stream of hotel guests made their way into the hotel. They were all together, British and American, all dressed in suits. Jones counted them. Eight in total. They were talking enthusiastically. Then following them, closely behind was Hamilton. He was wearing a long black coat, buttoned up to his neck, his head down, trying his best to remain unseen behind the crowd. Jones stood up to make his way over to Hamilton, but as he did he felt a sudden, sharp pain in the back of his neck. His body stiffened and his vision became cloudy immediately. The palms of his hands became numb and clammy. He tried to maintain his balance but he was too weak. Jones fell, his arms swinging wildly as he tried to grab hold of the glass table in front of him. The table broke his fall momentarily, but it only delayed the inevitable as Jones ended in a crumpled heap on the carpeted floor.

  A crowd of people gathered around him, and in the crowd, Jones noticed a tall man, with bright blonde hair walking away. He thought he could make out a scar on his forehead, but he couldn’t be sure. His vision continued to diminish before everything turned black.

  13

  Direct report is now Kate Allison. All comms through Allison - active immediately. Mission objectives remain unchanged.

  Black had no idea what was going on back at TEP headquarters, or who Allison was, but he had to put that to the back of his mind. He was closing in on the rogue agent, and the mission would soon be complete. He put his mobile phone back in his jacket pocket and continued to walk up the street in the direction of the Hong Kong Brew House.

  The narrow street was bustling with office workers on their way for an after work drink or meal. Cars and vans slowly manoeuvred their way through the crowd which spilt out onto the road. Any one of them could be the target, but Black had no way of knowing. Jerrard hadn’t even given him a description of who he was meeting with.

  Hong Kong Brew House was on the ground floor of a tall residential building. The bar was busy, and the loud music was audible from out on the pavement. Black looked through the windows, but couldn’t make out anyone with any distinction. He made his way inside.

  The atmosphere inside was boisterous but good natured with a young crowd. Black looked down at his feet as he stood on the obligatory scattering of peanut shells that had been discarded on the floor. He made his way to the bar and ordered a Coke. He looked around the bar. All the tables were taken, and he couldn’t see anyone who looked as if they were on their own or waiting for someone.

  “Mr Wood?” a voice called out to him.

  Black turned around. It was the bartender, a short middle aged Chinese man with short, rec
eding hair.

  “Yes, how can I help?” Black replied.

  “Your friend, he was going to meet you here. He had to leave, quite unexpectedly. He had a photo of you on his phone, asked me to look out for you. He said he had lost your telephone number. He asked if you could meet him at his hotel – Novotel in Wan Chai – room 402.”

  “Thank you,” Black said. “How long ago was this?”

  “About fifteen minutes, sir.”

  For a moment, he thought about asking for a description of the man, but he didn't. The bartender was under the impression they were friends and he didn't want to arouse suspicion.

  Black took a sip of his Coke and made his way back outside the bar. As he did, a feeling of apprehension took over, but he knew he had to go to the hotel and complete the mission.

  His thoughts returned to Hamilton’s disappearance and Stephen Jones’ unexpected arrival in Hong Kong. They were both clearly linked to the mission, but he didn’t know how or why, or if either of them posed a threat. Maybe that would become clear when he arrived at the hotel.

  Black took out his mobile phone again and replied to the last message.

  Target location changed. Novotel in Wan Chai. En route.

  14

  There was a crowd of people stood on the pavement as the ambulance pulled away from the entrance of the Novotel. Black looked on as a single policeman struggled to get details from people at the scene. It seemed everyone had their own version of events. Black made his way inside the hotel, through the ensuing chaos.

  The lobby and bar area was closed off, with another policeman and hotel security guarding the scene. Black turned right and headed for the elevator to the fourth floor.

  Some hotel guests were making their way down to the lobby having heard that there had been an incident. Rumours had circulated quickly with people saying someone had been murdered, others thinking it was some kind of terrorist incident.

  Black didn’t believe in coincidences and he was convinced this was related to his mission in some way. Had the rogue agent already been taken out? Maybe Jones or Jerrard had got there first.

  Room 402 was halfway down the hall. Black checked his weapon was secure in the holster under his jacket as he made his way over to the door. He knocked twice. There was no reply. He knocked again, louder this time, but again nothing. He looked down each side of the hall. He was alone. He tried the door handle. It wasn’t locked. Black carefully inched the door open and peered through the opening.

  The room was semi dark, with enough light for Black to make out a double bed, desk and chair. He crept inside and quietly closed the door behind him. He took out his weapon and flipped off the safety and held it out in front of him. Black walked the short distance to the closed bathroom door and tried the handle. The door was locked from the inside. Black took a step back and aimed the Sig Sauer mid way up the door.

  "Unlock and open the door, now," he demanded.

  Black was surprised at how quickly the door did unlock and open, but he was even more surprised at who was stood in the bathroom when it did.

  "Please tell me you beat me to it?" Black asked.

  Hamilton shook his head. "No, Black. You've got here first. And here I am," Hamilton wasn't holding a weapon. He had a black t-shirt and worn denim jeans. He looked tired, almost ill.

  "Why?" growled Black.

  "At first, for the money. I was handing over pieces of information so insignificant that no one even noticed. After a while, the Chinese started demanding more. They had me over a barrel. If I didn't give them what they wanted, they would expose me. I was in over my head."

  "You fucking traitor. How long has this been going on?"

  "A few years. It all got too much after our agent was taken in China. The next thing they wanted was access to files from our nuclear base at Faslane in Scotland. I told them I would travel over here and meet them, but I knew it was the final straw. But I couldn't face handing myself in. And I'm too much of a coward to kill myself - believe me, I've tried to pluck up the courage. I couldn't even bring myself to overdose. So what better way to end it all than giving the mission to you. I fought to bring you to TEP. This will be a win-win situation for you."

  "You're mental," Black said. "Fucking deranged. I'm taking you in. Death is too good for you." Black pulled out his mobile phone.

  "Don't even think about it," Hamilton pulled a matching Sig Sauer from the back of his jeans and aimed it at Black. Jerrard had clearly been supplying weapons to more than one person in the last few days. "Carry out your mission as you were ordered."

  "And if I don't?"

  "I'll put a round in your head and find an agent who will take me down. We've got two on call in Macau. Either one of them will do the job."

  "Why don't you just put a bullet in your own head, you piece of shit?"

  "Tried that. Couldn't go through with it. Plus, I want to show them I made the right choice in bringing you onto the team. Call it redemption."

  Black breathed heavily, still aiming the gun at Hamilton.

  "I'm going to count to five, Black. There won't be a six. One of us dies. One....two....three....four......"

  Skull fragments, blood and brain tissue exploded onto the white bathroom tiles as Hamilton's body slumped to the floor. The bullet had passed straight through the middle of his forehead and lodged in the wall behind him. The exit wound was large. Black knelt down next to the body and picked up the second Sig Sauer. He put it in the back of his jeans.

  Black walked over to the hotel room desk. There was a key card for another hotel room. Hamilton had booked two rooms, one in his name, the other in his alias. He had been well organised in trying to throw Jones or anyone else off the scent. It now made sense why he'd flown to Hong Kong when Hamilton had disappeared.

  Black took a moment to replay the last ten minutes in his head. He took out his phone and typed a message to Allison.

  Mission complete. Target down.

  15

  The unwelcome feeling of disorientation was overwhelming. His eyes were clouded with a sea of white mist, and the room was spinning uncontrollably. Jones struggled to gain focus. The ringing in his ears was piercing, almost unbearable. The disorientation got the better of him and he vomited violently, retching up blood and stomach lining.

  Eventually, he came round and as the room came into focus, Jones could see he was in a hospital. A nurse was stood at the end of his bed, pouring him a glass of water.

  “Sir, you drink this – slowly,” she said as she hurriedly took the soiled bed cover away and replaced it with a new one which had been laying on the visitors' chair, almost as if she was expecting to have a use for it.

  Jones’ head was thumping, like a thousand hang overs hitting simultaneously. Then he remembered why he was here. The hotel. The pain his neck. The tall man with the scar. He’d been targeted deliberately, probably poisoned.

  “My……my mobile phone……do you have it?” he asked, struggling to get his sentence out. His throat and chest were painful, and even breathing was a struggle.

  “No sir, no telephone. You just have your clothes,” the nurse replied. “You must rest. You are very poorly.”

  Jones laid back in the bed. It wasn’t comfortable and he had an urge to pull the drip out of his arm and leave the hospital, although he knew this would be a mistake; he was weak, and he wouldn’t get very far.

  “Can you tell me your name, sir? You have no ID, no passport, and no documents. You were found in the Novotel."

  Jones shook his head. “I can’t…….remember. I don’t remember my name – or what happened. I just know I was using a mobile phone.” he didn’t want to say anything until he could get a grasp of the situation and make contact with TEP.

  There was a shout from outside the room. “Sir, I have to go. Rest, and the doctor will be along soon.”

  Jones laid back and tried to make himself comfortable. The door opened again. It was the man with the scar. Jones became rigid, his muscles tighte
ned. He wasn’t scared, more bracing himself for what was to come.

  “Relax, Mr Jones. If I wanted you dead, I’d have done it in the hotel.”

  “Who are you and what do you want?” Jones asked, his breathing still laboured.

  “You should read your mission files more carefully, Mr Jones. The scar should have given it away. I’m the source your agency has been in contact with. The one with the answers; the one with the information; the one who knows who the bad apple within TEP is.”

  “What did you do to me?”

  “You should have stayed in England, Mr Jones. You very nearly fucked up the entire mission. I had to take you down. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine in a day or two. I have your phone – you’re a popular guy, it hasn’t stopped ringing.”

  Jones knew there would be serious repercussions and his career would likely be over. That would likely be the best case scenario. He looked up at Jerrard. “Who’s the leak?”

  “Come on, you must have it worked out by now.”

  Jones knew, but he didn’t want to believe it. He had looked up to Hamilton through his TEP career. He had taught him well. “Why would he do it?”

  “Money. Greed. He didn’t believe in the cause anymore. It started out with little bits of intel – nothing too serious, but they offered him more money, and each secret he sold, the pay cheque was higher, but in turn, the intel more damning. He was in over his head. He wanted a way out, but without the shame of having to face his superiors, so he sent Black after him. He thought a new agent with no preconceptions or history would be better suited to the task,” Jerrard was taking pleasure in what for him was a personal victory. “I can’t say I’m sorry. He deserved what was coming to him. I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.”