‘It seems that way,’ said Standing. He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘There’s definitely something going on with the cops. And it looks like it’s at a senior level, too.’
‘Matt, I really want to see Mom and Dad,’ said Kaitlyn.
‘Okay,’ said Standing. ‘We’ll swing by one more time and if it looks good we’ll go in. But if they don’t know that Bobby-Ray is in trouble, then we don’t tell them. The less they know, the better.’
She grinned. ‘Deal,’ she said.
They drove to the house again. There were still no signs of surveillance, so Standing pulled up behind the Chevrolet.
A flight of wooden steps led up to a shaded porch where a cushioned swing seat was hanging from chains. Kaitlyn pressed the doorbell and smiled nervously at Standing. The man who opened the door was tall and balding with thin lips that broke into a broad smile when he saw Kaitlyn. ‘Darling, why didn’t you tell us you were coming?’
‘It was a last-minute decision,’ she said. ‘Spur of the moment.’ She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek.
Mr Barnes had pale-blue eyes and they blinked behind steel-framed spectacles as he looked over her shoulder. He frowned a little when he saw Standing. ‘Is Bobby-Ray not with you?’ He was wearing a cardigan that looked like it had been hand-knitted and had comfortable slippers on his feet. When she didn’t reply, he held her by the shoulders and repeated the question.
Kaitlyn exchanged a look with Standing, then smiled at her father. ‘He’s working, Dad,’ said Kaitlyn. ‘This is my friend, Matt,’ she said when she eventually broke away.
Mr Barnes shook hands with Standing. He had a soft grip but he looked Standing in the eyes as he shook. ‘Are you a SEAL, too, Matt?’
‘I’m British, Mr Barnes, but I served alongside your son in Syria.’
Mr Barnes eyes hardened a fraction as he released his grip on Standing’s hand. ‘Bobby-Ray said there was a Brit with him when the IED went off.’
‘That would be me,’ said Standing.
‘It was the worst day of Bobby-Ray’s life when they told him he had to leave the SEALs,’ said Mr Barnes.
‘Where’s Mom?’ asked Kaitlyn, and Standing knew she was trying to change the subject. Standing had to fight the urge to tell her father that Bobby-Ray’s injuries had more to do with him being in the wrong place at the wrong time and less about him making a conscious decision to step in front of the blast. The position could just as easily have been reversed. There was no doubt that Bobby-Ray had taken the bulk of the blast and that had saved Standing from more serious injuries, but Standing didn’t like the way that Mr Barnes seemed to be implying that he was responsible for what had happened to his son.
‘In the kitchen,’ said Mr Barnes. ‘She’s baking. You picked a good time to visit.’
Mr Barnes stepped to the side to let them in. There was a side table with a phone on it under an ornate mirror, and on the opposite wall were dozens of framed photographs, many of them school and college pictures of Bobby-Ray and Kaitlyn. There were several pictures of Bobby-Ray in the SEALs, a couple of them taken in the Middle East. Kaitlyn walked to the kitchen and Standing followed her as Mr Barnes closed the door behind them. The floors were bare oak, varnished to a glossy sheen, the doors were also gleaming wood and there were wooden beams overhead.
‘Honey, guess who’s dropped by unexpectedly!’ called Mr Barnes.
‘Who?’ Mrs Barnes appeared at the kitchen door, wiping her hands on a cloth. She was tall and thin like her husband, her hair grey and loose around her shoulders, wearing a canary-yellow dress belted at the waist. She had no make-up on but her high cheekbones and piercing green eyes suggested that she had been a stunner when she was younger, and when she smiled she showed perfect white teeth. ‘Darling!’ she exclaimed when she saw Kaitlyn. ‘What a wonderful surprise.’ She rushed down the hallway to hug her. The hug was followed by two loud air kisses. ‘Oh, you smell lovely,’ said Mrs Barnes. ‘What is that?’
‘It’s just my shampoo, Mom,’ laughed Kaitlyn.
‘It smells like apples.’
‘I think that’s coming from the oven, Mom.’
Mrs Barnes frowned, then laughed. ‘You’re right. Apple pie. And chocolate-chip muffins. Your favourites. Bobby-Ray loves my apple pie.’ She frowned again. ‘Where is Bobby-Ray?’ asked Mrs Barnes. She frowned at Matt. ‘And who are you?’
‘This is Matt, he’s a friend of Bobby-Ray’s,’ said Mr Barnes.
‘Bobby-Ray is just busy, Mom,’ said Kaitlyn. ‘He couldn’t come.’ Standing could tell that Kaitlyn wasn’t happy about lying to her parents, but he knew that there was no other option.
‘It’s been ages since I saw Bobby-Ray. Simply ages.’ Mrs Barnes began to toy with her hair, winding it around her fingers.
‘Mom, he was here last month. We both were.’
Mrs Barnes shook her head emphatically. ‘That is such a lie,’ she said. ‘This is the first time you’ve been here in years. I was starting to think you’d forgotten about us.’
‘Mom …’ said Kaitlyn. She looked over at her father for support but Mr Barnes just shrugged.
‘So where is he?’ asked Mrs Barnes. ‘Still fighting the A-Rabs?’
‘Mom, Bobby-Ray left the SEALs six months ago.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Mrs Barnes. She looked over at the kitchen. ‘Did I switch the oven on?’
‘Yes, you did, honey,’ said Mr Barnes.
Mrs Barnes nodded happily. She looked at Standing and frowned. ‘Who are you?’ she asked.
Mr Barnes flashed Standing an apologetic look. ‘That’s Matt, honey,’ said Mr Barnes. ‘He’s a friend of Bobby-Ray’s.’
Mrs Barnes looked around, confused. ‘Where is Bobby-Ray?’
‘He’s working, Mom,’ said Kaitlyn.
‘Okay,’ said Mrs Barnes. She turned and walked into the kitchen, bending down to look at the oven controls as if to reassure herself that she had switched it on.
‘Do you want a beer, Matt?’ asked Mr Barnes.
‘A beer sounds good, thank you,’ said Standing.
Mr Barnes went over to the fridge and took out two bottles of Budweiser. Kaitlyn raised her eyebrows expectantly and her father laughed and took out a third beer.
They sat around the table while Mrs Barnes went over to the sink and began washing dishes.
‘Is the dishwasher broken?’ asked Kaitlyn.
Her father leaned towards her and lowered his voice. ‘It makes her happy, washing up,’ he said. ‘Just let her get on with it.’
They sipped their beers as Mrs Barnes carried on washing. ‘Dad, I thought I’d take Matt up to see the cabin, is that okay?’
‘Of course, but it’ll be in a bit of a state. It’s been a year since anyone was there.’
‘We’re not looking for creature comforts,’ said Kaitlyn. ‘Maybe just stay there for a night or two.’
Mr Barnes tilted his head on one side and narrowed his eyes and Kaitlyn burst out laughing. ‘We’re just friends, Dad. Don’t worry.’
‘I’m not worried,’ said Mr Barnes. ‘To be honest, I had hoped that Matt here was your boyfriend. It’s about time you had someone in your life.’
‘Dad, I have lots of people in my life.’
‘You know what I mean, Kaitlyn.’
Kaitlyn sighed. ‘You’re going to start on about grandchildren again, aren’t you?’
‘My biological grandfather clock is ticking,’ said Mr Barnes.
‘Dad, you’ve only just turned sixty,’ said Kaitlyn. She sighed in exasperation. ‘I’m sorry about this, Matt. I didn’t realise I was dragging you into an episode of The Dating Game.’
She raised her bottle in salute and he clinked his bottle against hers. ‘We’re good,’ he said.
Mr Barnes looked at his watch. ‘If you’re planning on getting there tonight you’ll need to leave soon. You don’t want to be moving through the woods after dark.’
‘We’ve got flashlights,’ said Standing.
&nb
sp; ‘It’s always better to get there during daylight,’ said Mr Barnes. ‘And you’ll need to take food, remember. And take water to be on the safe side. I don’t know what state the stream is in. You might want to check the latrine, too.’
‘We’ll check everything, Dad, don’t worry.’ She grinned at Standing. ‘We had some great vacations there when we were growing up. It really is in the middle of nowhere. Dad taught us hunting, shooting and fishing. That’s probably what gave Bobby-Ray his taste for adventure.’
‘Where is Bobby-Ray?’ asked Mrs Barnes, turning around from the sink.
‘He’s working, honey,’ said Mr Barnes.
‘Okay,’ said Mrs Barnes and she turned back to her washing-up.
‘What do the doctors say, Dad?’ whispered Kaitlyn.
‘They say she’s still at the early to moderate stage,’ said Mr Barnes. ‘They’re trying her on different cholinesterase inhibitors. She didn’t react well to Aricept and she’s on Exelon now, which she doesn’t have any adverse reactions to. And they put her on Memantine a couple of weeks ago, which is supposed to help with memory and attention span, but I haven’t noticed any improvement. Mind you, it hasn’t got any worse over that period, so maybe it is working.’ He shrugged sadly.
‘Are you okay, Dad?’ asked Kaitlyn.
He forced a smile. ‘I’m fine now, I just worry what the future holds. At the moment it’s amusing, at least until she wanders around without her clothes on, but it can only go one way, unless they come up with some sort of wonder cure. She knows who I am, and she recognises you, but the day will come when she won’t and that scares me.’
Kaitlyn reached over and held his hand. Standing felt suddenly uncomfortable, knowing that he was intruding on a family matter and feeling worse because he had to take Kaitlyn away. But her father was right, they needed to be at the cabin before dark.
Kaitlyn looked over at him as if she had read his mind. ‘We’d better be going,’ she said.
Mrs Barnes went over to the oven, opened it and peered at the muffins and apple pie. ‘Let me wrap these up for you to take with you,’ she said. She slipped on oven gloves, pulled out the tray with the pie and placed it on top of the stove, followed by the muffins.
‘They smell great, Mom,’ said Kaitlyn.
‘They do, don’t they,’ said Mrs Barnes. She looked around, frowning. ‘Now where has Bobby-Ray got to?’
31
Dan Shepherd’s phone rang. The caller was withholding his number but he took the call anyway, though he answered with a laconic ‘Yeah?’ rather than identifying himself.
‘And how are you this warm and pleasant day?’ The accent was American and Shepherd knew immediately who it was. Richard Yokely. Despite the pleasantries, the only time the American called was when he wanted something, so Shepherd was immediately on the alert. ‘I’m fine, keeping the free world safe from harm. You?’
Yokely chuckled. ‘The same, of course,’ he said. ‘And on that matter we need to talk. You’re in the office?’
MI5 was based in Thames House, a Grade-2 listed building on the north bank of the River Thames, next to Lambeth Bridge. ‘I’m afraid so,’ said Shepherd. ‘I’m between jobs at the moment so tied to a desk.’
‘You’ll appreciate some fresh air, then, and at least I can still smoke outdoors. How about that café near the Serpentine in Hyde Park?’
‘I’ll have to get a cab. Can’t we make it closer?’
‘It’s sensitive, so I wouldn’t want to meet you too close to home. And they do make a very good cup of coffee.’
Shepherd looked at his watch. ‘Give me an hour.’
‘It’s yours,’ said Yokely, and ended the call.
Shepherd sat back and sighed. He wasn’t happy at being summoned across town, but whenever Yokely got in touch it was important. He wasn’t one for social calls. Shepherd had crossed paths with the American several times over the years, but knew very little about him. At various points in his career, Yokely had worked for the Central Intelligence Agency and the Defense Intelligence Agency and quite a few other organisations that preferred to be known by their initials. He was also involved with the black ops group Grey Fox, a highly secret unit that reported directly to the White House. They weren’t friends but Shepherd trusted the man as much as he trusted anyone within the intelligence community.
Shepherd was actually quite pleased to get Yokely’s call; he’d spent the last week doing little more than overseeing three long-term undercover operations involving the penetration of right-wing groups that had been carrying out racist attacks in the north of England. The two men and one woman were experienced MI5 officers who needed very little hand-holding, so all he was doing was collating reports and offering the occasional piece of advice.
He arrived at Hyde Park ten minutes early and spent the time checking that he wasn’t being watched. Yokely was already at an outside table with a black coffee in front of him, smoking a small cigar. He waved Shepherd over, then stood up to shake hands with him. Yokely was in his late fifties. His hair was greying but he was tough and well muscled, though his dark blazer, white shirt and dark-blue tie gave him the look of a BMW salesman. As always the black leather of his tasselled shoes gleamed as if they had been freshly polished, and he had a chunky gold ring on his right ring finger.
‘Sorry about dragging you across town, Spider,’ said Yokely. He waved him to a seat. ‘You make yourself comfortable, the coffee’s on me.’ Yokely stubbed out what remained of his cigar and went inside the café as Shepherd sat down. There were plenty of people around, in the café and walking around the Serpentine, the forty-acre lake in the middle of Hyde Park, but no one was paying him, or Yokely, any attention. Shepherd was sure that the American had run his own counter-surveillance techniques before turning up at the meeting place.
Yokely returned with Shepherd’s coffee and sat down. ‘So, you look in good shape, Spider. Still running?’
‘When I can,’ said Shepherd. ‘But watching my diet more than anything.’
‘It’s one of the annoying things about getting older,’ said Yokely. ‘By the time you can really afford to eat and drink the finer things in life, the doctors are telling you that they’re all bad for you. When I was in my twenties I ate nothing but fast food and drank cheap beer and whisky. Now I can afford a decent steak and Châteauneuf-du-Pape and they tell me red meat is a killer and two glasses of wine is my limit.’ He raised his coffee cup. ‘And no more than two cups of coffee a day, they say.’ He grinned. ‘Fuck ’em,’ he said. He sipped his coffee and smacked his lips. ‘This is one of the few places in London where you can get a decent cup of coffee.’ He looked around, then lowered his voice slightly. ‘I want to talk to you about your friend Matt Standing,’ he said.
‘Friend is pushing it a bit,’ said Shepherd. ‘But I’m all ears.’
‘Former Sergeant Standing is causing havoc and mayhem in the States at the moment, and I need to know if he’s doing it with MI5’s blessing or not.’
Shepherd’s eyes narrowed. ‘What sort of havoc and mayhem, Richard?’
‘I’ll come on to that in a moment,’ said Yokely. ‘The thing is, the SAS keeps its secrets a darn sight better than the police or the intelligence agencies. If he worked for the cops or the spooks I’d probably have a handle on him already, but you SAS guys keep your cards close to your chest. I know that he was a sergeant but is now a regular trooper, and I know that he was embedded with a Navy SEAL unit in Syria and handled himself well, but as for anything else, he’s a man of mystery.’
Shepherd shrugged but didn’t say anything.
‘So what I need to know at this point is if Mr Standing is on an MI5 mission, or if what he’s doing is at the behest of the Increment or some other secret-squirrel department that I’m not aware of.’
The Increment was an ad-hoc group that drew on the resources of the SAS and SBS for missions that were too dangerous or specialised for MI6 and MI5. According to the conspiracy theorists, the Increment ha
d also been behind events such as the deaths of Princess Diana, Colonel Gaddafi of Libya and the former Serbian president Slobodan Milošević but the people who believed that also believed that the Americans had never walked on the moon and that George W. Bush was responsible for the attacks on the World Trade Center. Shepherd shook his head. ‘He’s not working for MI5, and I’m pretty sure he’s not doing anything for the Increment.’
‘That’s what I thought, but I wanted to check,’ said Yokely. ‘Now, you say you’re not friends, but you are helping him, right?’
Shepherd looked pained. ‘I think you’re going to have to tell me what you have, Richard.’
‘You mean I show you mine and you’ll show me yours?’
‘I don’t mean to be difficult, but …’ Shepherd shrugged.
Yokely took out his pack of cigars, selected one and lit it before continuing. ‘Your Mr Standing is trying to help a Navy SEAL he befriended out in Syria, a guy by the name of Bobby-Ray Barnes. Barnes left the SEALs after he got hit by an IED. He had a collapsed lung, which they fixed, but it meant his diving days were over. So Bobby-Ray becomes a bodyguard and one night his principal and three of his colleagues are shot to death in a Bel Air mansion. Bobby-Ray goes on the run and Mr Standing flies out to offer assistance.’ He took a long drag on his cigar and blew smoke up at the clear blue sky before continuing. ‘Now, somewhere along the line either Mr Standing asks you for help or you offer it, but either way you start making enquiries about the Solntsevskaya syndicate, in particular about their West Coast activities.’
‘Have you been spying on me, Richard?’
Yokely chuckled heartily. ‘We’re your allies, remember? The special relationship? We are constantly sharing intelligence and manpower. Our NSA works hand in hand with your GCHQ, so when you start asking about what the Solntsevskaya is up to on our turf, of course we’re going to know.’
‘And you’re interested in the Russian mafia, are you?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Yokely. ‘Very much so. So am I correct in saying that the intel you obtained on the Solntsevskaya was passed on to Mr Standing? In particular the details of Oleg Ivchenko and Stanislav Yurin?’
Last Man Standing Page 23