by Mike Winter
“Why?” Jones asked.
“Let’s just say me and him have a history. The kind of history where you spend the rest of your life wanting revenge; the kind of revenge that consumes you twenty-four hours a day. I’ve waited seven years – but I’m a patient man – I knew he would slip up eventually, and I would be there waiting, ready to take him down.” Jerrard placed the mobile phone on the table next to the bed. “Get some sleep, son. I have a feeling you’re going to have a rough ride when you’re back in the UK.”
Jones looked away as Jerrard left the room. He played through the events in his head. It all made sense and he was angry with himself for not realising before Hamilton had left the UK. Although maybe he had realised, but his own ignorance had shut it out.
The door opened again. It was the doctor.
16
The manager at the Tequila Bar was becoming familiar with Black. He was almost a regular visitor.
"Coke, sir?" he asked.
Black nodded. He took it over to the table where Jerrard was sat.
"Mission accomplished?" he asked as Black sat down. There was a look of smugness on Jerrard's face.
"Hamilton is dead if that's what you're getting at."
"Then the answer is certainly yes. You don't doubt that he deserved it, do you?"
"Maybe he did. It isn't my job to ask questions, I just pull the trigger."
"Is that what you believe?"
"What I believe is irrelevant."
Jerrard laughed loudly. "My God, they've trained you well. This isn't the Government you're talking to. You can be honest with me."
Black said nothing.
"You know, you remind me of myself when I was your age. I believed in my country, and carried out the orders I was given, without question. But sooner or later you come to realise that you're just a pawn in the game. They'll chew you up and spit you out eventually. You have a family don't you kid?"
Black nodded.
"And I'm willing to bet you've been told you'll never see them again?"
"That's right. But it's for the best."
"And why is that?"
"I did things. Things that can never be put right."
The look on Jerrard's face changed. He looked almost sympathetic. "You spent time in Afghan, didn't you? I was in Iraq. Two tours."
Black nodded again.
"I've read your file. I know what happened to you and your unit. Shit like that can fuck a man up for life. But they've used that against you, for their own agenda. They know you're good, and they never lose a good soldier."
"Look, I appreciate your concern, but I'm not really interested in a trip down memory lane. Is there a point to this?"
Jerrard handed Black a folded piece of paper across the table. He opened it. There was a UK mobile telephone number written on it.
"What's this?" Black asked.
Jerrard smiled. "This is the contact number for a friend of mine in the UK. She can help you. Anything you need. I thought she could maybe look in on your family from time to time. Make sure they're okay? It would give you at least some peace of mind."
"Why are you doing this for me?" Black was confused. He barely knew Jerrard.
"The main reason? I feel sorry for you. I've been in your shoes. I know what it is like for them to control you, and take away everything that you hold dear," Jerrard paused and took a sip of his Whisky Sour. "I told you me and Hamilton had history. We worked together before nine eleven, we got on well. Then after the planes hit the Twin Towers, everything changed. TEP was set up, and at the same time the CIA set up our own version. I wanted no part of it. They used my daughter as leverage. Hamilton was behind it all."
"What happened to your daughter?"
"They fucked her up - mentally. She never recovered. Threw herself from a bridge four years ago. That's when I moved to Hong Kong."
Black wanted to believe what he was hearing, but he had his doubts. He trusted no one but himself, and he'd experienced enough since joining TEP to know not everything was as it seemed.
"So what is the answer?" asked Black. "Are you telling me I should move away, like you? That isn't an option."
"Of course it isn't an option. You keep going as you are - for now. You'll become a good agent. In time, you'll see there is a way out. There was for me, and there can be for you."
"How did you get out?"
"They knew I could destroy them at any moment. You've got to be clever. Remember everything they teach you and use it against them. And then some."
"I'll bear that in mind," said Black, still untrusting of everything Jerrard was saying.
Jerrard checked his watch. "Time for me to go, kid. You've done well these last few days. It can't have been easy," Jerrard left two hundred dollars on the table. "I hope you'll take me up on my offer of help." He turned and walked out of the bar.
17
The flight back to London had been anything but relaxing. Black was occupied with his own thoughts and burning questions for the entirety of the twelve-hour flight. The death of Hamilton by his own hands brought it home to him just how heavily involved he already found himself in his new occupation. Two missions in and the body count was increasing. He made it five kills. What repercussions would those five deaths have on other people? Families? Children? Black told himself it was no different to the enemies he had killed in the battlefield in Afghanistan. It was still war, albeit a different kind of war.
This was his life now, and nothing would change that. He regretted having the drink, but it was inevitable. Most alcoholics fall off the wagon at some stage. In fact, he was surprised it had taken him this long. The saving grace was that he’d managed to keep it to just the one drink. He deemed that a victory.
The plane touched down at Heathrow ten minutes ahead of schedule. It was still dark outside; the runway and terminal lighting illuminated the light drizzle which had descended earlier.
Luckily the terminal wasn’t busy; the flight from Hong Kong was one of the first arrivals of the morning and the baggage area was less chaotic than it would have been later in the day. Black waited for his suitcase and made his way to the Underground station. He would be at TEP headquarters in a little over an hour.
Tiredness and fatigue set in while Black was sat opposite Hamilton’s old desk. The chair was uncomfortable and he fidgeted restlessly. His muscles ached and he could feel his eyelids closing of their own accord. He blinked repeatedly, fighting against them.
Even though he’d only sat in this particular seat a handful of times, it felt strange that he’d no longer be taking his orders from Hamilton himself. He’d never met Kate Allison and didn’t know what to expect. Hamilton had fought his superiors to bring Black onto the team. They thought he was too inexperienced, too young, but Hamilton believed in him, he had seen potential following his time in Afghanistan.
Allison entered the room walking quickly over to the desk. She sat down while scanning a file she had brought in with her.
“Good morning, Black. It is good to finally meet you. I trust you had a comfortable journey?”
Black didn’t answer. Small talk didn’t interest him.
Allison’s eyes scanned the laptop screen which was sat on the desk. “As you can appreciate, we have quite a situation here. The head of TEP involved in the sale of classified information to the Chinese – a new agent like yourself being tasked with his assassination – by the perpetrator himself. Then we have Agent Jones flying off to Hong Kong in his own pursuit, ending up being taken down by an ex-CIA operative. And this is before we get started on the analyst who was left to run things over here.”
“I followed the orders I was given ma'am. With respect, it isn’t my place to question those orders, it’s above my pay grade. I was given a mission, I carried out the brief - with success. I don’t see this issue here.”
Allison paused. She was visibly frustrated. “Did it not occur to you that once you’d ascertained that Hamilton was the leak you should have called it into us
? He should have been questioned, not killed.” Allison tried to remain calm, although there was intent in her voice.
“It was either him or me,” Black tried to be convincing.
“Maybe - maybe not. I guess it is down to whether I give you the benefit of that particular doubt.”
Black nodded.
“There is a lot of scrutiny in this particular division right now Black and you were Hamilton’s direct choice. As you can appreciate, there is a large question mark over his judgement right now. Take some time off while we sort this mess out. I’ll be in touch in due course.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Oh, Black, before you go; Sarah Barnes has been relieved of her duties – permanently. I know you and she were quite close at one stage. If you know what is good for you, keep away from her. We would like to avoid any more dramas.” Allison paused. “Despite everything that has happened in the last few days, I see potential in you, Black. You seem to have little or no emotion, which is always a good thing as far as we are concerned.”
“Thank you, ma'am.”
“I’ve read your file. Personally, I would have put you through further training. I still may. Either way, I do agree with Hamilton’s original assessment that you have qualities that we desperately need in this department. Your time in Afghanistan proved that. There aren’t enough people out there willing to clean up the government’s dirty laundry.”
Black couldn’t tell whether Allison meant it or not – she was extremely hard to read and avoided eye contact.
“Enjoy your rest. I’ll be in touch.”
Black left the office silently with his thoughts muddled. There was a mix of regret and confusion. The Government had him where they wanted him and he was under their control; Jerrard was right – he belonged to them now. They would dictate his every move, both professionally and personally. Black questioned what the alternative was. If he hadn’t joined TEP, his life would have become unbearable with nothing to take his mind away from the hurt he had caused his wife and daughter. TEP was the perfect way for him to channel his emotions and he needed to remain focused on that.
The sun was starting to rise and pierce the morning cloud as Black made his way out of the office. It was cold, but at least the rain had subsided. Black needed a release from his thoughts. He needed to talk to someone. He made his way to the Tower Gateway DLR station and headed for Islington.
18
Black arrived at Sarah Barnes’ apartment just after 8am. She was surprised to see him.
“You’re the last person I was expecting to see,” she said. Sarah looked tired, and still wearing clothes from the previous day.
“Are you okay?” Black asked.
“Not really. I haven’t slept. I’ve been up most of the night searching the job pages online. Welcome to the world of unemployment!”
She invited Black inside. Her apartment a good size and was split between two levels. She walked down the staircase to the living room. Black followed her. The apartment was decorated to a high standard, with original wooden flooring and high ceilings. Unfortunately, it was far from tidy with several days worth of dishes still strewn on the kitchen worktop.
Sarah had recently separated from her husband following their inevitable marriage breakdown. They were both consumed in their work; he worked in The City as a banker and earned a good salary. It paid for the apartment. Sarah had already given notice to vacate it, as she couldn’t afford the rent on her own. The state of the apartment was an indication of the beginning of a downward spiral.
“So what brings you here?” Sarah asked, sitting down on one of the red leather sofas. “I thought we couldn’t have any contact? And the last time we spoke, you made it perfectly clear you wanted nothing more to do with more to do with me?"
Black showed a glimmer of regret in his eyes. "Maybe I was wrong," he said quietly. "It isn't really an ideal situation. I thought we could talk?"
"Then talk. You've got five minutes."
"I wanted to apologise. The last time we spoke - the way I acted, it was uncalled for. You were right - I am messed up. Afghanistan, it has fucked me up. I need help, Sarah."
Sarah looked into his eyes. She could see they were welling up. This was the first sign of real emotion she had seen from him. "Has something happened?" She asked.
Black breathed in. "I shouldn't be telling you this, you're no longer with TEP."
"No one else is here, Tom. You can tell me."
"Hamilton was the leak all along. I had to take him out."
Sarah said nothing.
"He's been at it for years, got in over his head and couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't face handing himself in, and didn't have the balls to kill himself."
"Did you make it quick?" Sarah asked.
Black nodded. "He didn't suffer."
The pair of them stood in silence for a moment, Sarah coming to terms with the realisation that she had been working under Hamilton for so many years with this going on. She always had her doubts about him.
"Where do you go from here?" she asked.
"I report into Allison now. She's told me to keep my distance from you, but that isn't what I want, Sarah. I need a friend."
Sarah smiled. "Are you sure? If they find out, you know they'll not be lenient."
"This is my life. I'm going to make the best of what is left of it. I've bought a new mobile, I'll change the number every month so they can't track me. You can speak to me on that number. That's a start isn't it?"
"Yes, it is. But Tom, you need professional help as well. Promise me you will see someone."
Black nodded. A tear rolled down his cheek. Sarah opened her arms and held him. Black sensed relief. He knew this wasn't what he should be doing, but he was willing to take the consequences.
19
A litre bottle of Chivas Regal stood on the kitchen worktop. Black stared at it. Seeing Sarah hadn’t helped. It only made him realise that everything her and Jerrard said was correct. He belonged to the system now, and any hope of a normal life was nothing more than a pipe dream. Sarah was only entertaining his plea to make him feel better. That's what he told himself. Black joined TEP to escape his demons, with the stark realisation now that he could run, but couldn’t hide from them.
He picked up the bottle and took it into his living room. The apartment was basic; the living room decked out in the cheapest available Ikea furniture. Equally cheap laminate flooring added to the cold, unhomely feel.
Black sat on the sofa and unscrewed the bottle. Before he took a sip, he looked at the solitary photograph which sat on the window sill. It was the only photograph he had of his daughter. Her wide smile and large brown eyes looked at him and for a moment, Black smiled back as if she was in the room with him.
He looked again at the opened bottle of whisky; the strong smell of alcohol made it difficult for him to resist. Black took another look at his daughter's photograph before launching the whisky bottle at the wall opposite him.
The drive to Manchester was tiring. Traffic on the M25 and M1 meant it had been slow progress, but eventually Black arrived in Middleton, the suburb where he’d spent most of his life.
Walsingham Avenue was a quiet cul-de-sac with medium sized detached houses, all with neatly presented gardens. Black drove his Vauxhall Astra slowly down the road until he reached number 36. He drove past the house, glancing out of the window. There was no car on the driveway and no sign of life that he could make out inside. Black drove back out of the estate and towards the centre of Middleton.
The cafe which had been chosen for the rendezvous was like a throw back to the 1980s. Wood chip wall paper, beige tables and chairs, and the thick smell of grease escaping from the kitchen. The cafe's hygiene rating wasn't displayed anywhere which didn't surprise Black at all.
The door opened. She was much more attractive than Black had expected. She looked the late thirties, with long red hair neatly tied back. She wore a medium length black skirt and matching suit jacket. She spotte
d Black sat on the back table and smiled as she walked over.
"Mr Black. It's nice to meet you. I'm Leah. Our mutual friend said I could be of assistance?"
"Yes, erm, that's right," Black replied.
"Okay. How is it I can help?"
Black was nervous. He looked around to make sure no one was in earshot. "I need someone to check in on my daughter. Every couple of months. Take some photo's, let me know how she is doing and if she is okay."
"You want me to stalk your daughter?!"
"Look - this isn't easy. If I could contact my daughter myself, I would, but it isn't possible. Can you do it?"
"It will cost you," Leah said.
"How much?"
"Fifteen hundred for each visit. Take it or leave it."
Black didn't even negotiate. "Done."
"Do you have her details?"
Black handed an envelope containing his daughter's address and a copy of her photograph. "There you go."
"Excellent. I'll be in touch."
Leah left as quickly as she had entered. Black had no idea whether he was doing the right thing. He just wanted to know his daughter was okay. He missed her, and this would give him an element of comfort.
Black sat for a few more minutes, nursing his black coffee. A text message came through on his personal mobile phone. He didn't recognise the number.
I'm glad you took my offer of help.
Black smiled briefly. For some reason, he felt Jerrard was genuine. Or maybe he just wanted to believe he was. Either way, he had a sense of comfort for the first time in a long time. Black got up and left the cafe, got in his car and headed back to London.
A message from Mike
Firstly, a big thank you for reading Rogue. I hoped you enjoyed it.
I hate asking for favours, but I really need my readers help.