The Kompromat Kill

by Michael Jenkins

  ‘The problem is, sir, times have changed now. Our intelligence is showing that the Russians are pretty much running the Syrian War and are now commanding the Iranians too, as well as all of their proxy armies. Our assessment in MI5 is that Russia has co-opted Iran under its command and control and has taken charge of all the events we are seeing in Lebanon and Yemen, and the attacks by Hezbollah on Israel. They are now controlling Iran as they had no one to turn to when we cut off their supplies with the additional sanctions after the Americans pulled the nuclear deal.’

  Sir Justin sat at the end of his desk, picking up his tea and placing his hand on a knee. ‘What else have you got on the operational side Jack?’

  ‘Well, we’ve direct evidence now of a Russian command bunker in Syria where Iranian Al Quds officers are under their command, alongside Syria’s own officers. We’ve picked up on their concept of operations via our own Court operations. We are seeing everything now being commanded by the Russians, with Syria and Iran being subordinate to them. Cold war 2.0 has been underway for a long time, but this time the Russians have bolstered their assets and added two countries to their new union – a Russian Union. It’s Putin’s grand plan. But this time around he knows Russia can win cold war 2.0 once he makes it hot.’

  ‘What do you think their next moves are?’

  ‘It’s a graduated ramp-up, sir. A graduated year-on-year escalation so Putin can get command and control in place. Subordination too. He conducts skirmishes to test our responses, both political and militarily, as well as watching our intelligence responses. Then he acts again. Until he has the full picture. He’s a master at shaping the battlefield to give him the conditions to win outright. We’ve played right into his hands by taking the nuclear deal from Iran as they had no one to turn to for finance, for commerce, for selling their oil. The significance of the Russians developing banking and brokerage relations with Iran is an important factor in their bilateral trade and the economic cooperation has been staggering in its depth.’

  ‘A fine assessment Jack. Astute to the core, as D always said of you. He had a fine second in command for The Court, that’s for sure. The problem is, as you well know, the battlefields are now hybrid. Where is Putin at with all this chaos now?’

  ‘Doing rather well, sir. But I fear he’s about to open up his terrorism front with multiple arms. Whilst my assessment is that he would never provide nuclear material direct to Iran, he would help them tactically if it supported his strategic aims. He simply wouldn’t allow one of his children to have those arms, which is why we think the Iranians are accelerating their own nuclear programme again – not that it ever stopped of course.’

  ‘So tactical support it is? Anything new for me?’

  ‘Well, not a great deal I’m afraid. But I do have a Court officer in Istanbul right now who has identified one of the Iranian command hubs that evidences their command and control right down to tactical level. It’s staffed by Iranian MOIS agents who have full cyber and terrorist capability that they can channel into the Middle East and into Europe. I think it’s been activated. They call it station fifty-four.’

  Jack paused and leant forward to place his cup and saucer on the small round table sat on a Persian carpet. He watched for Sir Justin’s reaction.

  ‘So cold war 2.0 has new affiliations. An axis of evil, for want of a better phrase, consisting of Russia, Iran and Syria. Good God. The devil incarnate is amongst us and this path needs to be trodden well.’

  ‘It’s certainly a union now,’ Jack said, looking up and putting his glasses away. ‘Some commentators have irresponsibly spoken of a possible World War Three and all the conditions are there, sir.’

  ‘What else should we be doing then Jack?’

  ‘Well, we need agents in Iran now. We only have one or two of any note. I have my man in Istanbul looking to help us with that cause. If you can keep the Americans from going on a full-scale rampage and direct war, I can begin to establish a network of spies and agents within the Iranian system. My man is currently trying to recruit one of their highest-grade MOIS officers, which could lead to us finding their sleeper agents in this country, and I’m sure we can get collateral to get others inside their nuclear programmes but, importantly, inside the MOIS. We can then begin to see their wider plans with the Russians and disrupt them.

  ‘Very good Jack. You know it’s all a bit nebulous. A foggy war. We need better information, so keep up the tempo. I’ll make sure that D’s replacement is the man we need too. It will temporarily be the Deputy Director, who is familiar with your Court operations I believe?’

  ‘That’s really good to hear, sir. He is. And a good man for the role too.’

  Jack watched Sir Justin button up his beige jacket and grab his lapels by both hands again. A signal they were done. He then watched Sir Justin rise up and down on his toes. A strange foible, Jack thought. An able man behind the facade. Whilst Jack hadn’t given away his full hand of cards, it had been an agreeable meeting.

  ‘Thank you for your time, sir. I’ll keep the momentum up on our needs.’

  ‘Splendid Jack. By the way, any news on that diplomat who went missing? Our FCO chap?

  ‘Nothing I’m afraid. He just went missing and there’s been no news whatsoever. He is however linked to one of America’s main neocons and a key advisor to the White House. A man called Fletcher Barrington. It’s all a bit fuzzy right now but I’ll keep you informed as we unearth it all.’

  Chapter 22

  Istanbul

  Sean threw his rucksack on the floor of the newly decorated bedroom in the villa, grabbed a bottle of water and strode onto the terrace outside his room to think. He wondered about the veracity of Iranian sleeper agents in Britain, about the destruction they could create and the lives they led hidden behind a facade of normality in British society.

  The stunning views of Istanbul distracted his thoughts for a while, but they returned with vigour, led most prolifically by a profound suspicion about what was happening. Something wasn’t right, he thought. Possibly a trap? Who knew? How the hell was he meant to get intelligence from this woman, let alone turn her into a British agent? Where on earth did Jack get that notion? What was he hiding?

  He took a long drink, throwing ideas around in his head about what Jack might be up to. He needed to analyse all the intelligence he had collected so far and try to figure out what to do next.

  He took his shirt off, threw it on a pile in the corner of the room and stretched out on the bed, arms behind his head. His jaw began to tense as it always did when he was anxious. Some people tap their foot, some people twitch. Sean tensed his jawbones, a habit easily seen by others when he was under stress. He hated it when he spoke out loud but found himself doing it again. As if it were some nervous affliction he had formed from years of living right on the edge.

  He breathed deeply and then tried to piece things together logically in his mind. Something wasn’t right with Nadège. She had a distant gaze, a detachment, as if she were existing in a state of suspension. Her eyes gave a sense of soullessness, of being lost. He recalled something from all those years ago, remembering her long moments of detachment. It made him wonder what might be behind that mask. Then it came back to him. All those memories of odd behaviour she had exhibited when they were lovers, the push and pull of their relationship and the occasional moments when they had argued and she’d insisted, ‘I never ever said that.’ But Sean knew she had. It sowed deep confusion in his mind. Seeds of doubt. Gaslighting. What exactly was all that about?

  He heard his phone vibrate followed by the sound of a single tone. A text. Groaning, he lurched to his feet and walked across the room to the dressing table. It was from Melissa in the south of France.

  ‘How’s it going? I think I’ve got a lead on the diplomat who was kidnapped. Quite odd. You didn’t call me last night. I’ll call at 10pm your time. How’s the tart?’

  Sean chuckled. ‘Amazing how the tables turn,’ he said, speaking to himself again. I
nstead of being hounded by Samantha from afar as his operations mistress, this time it was Melissa gently reminding him where his allegiance lay. He smiled at that. And texted back.

  ‘Miss you. She’s fine and all cool in that regard. Fear not. Steady out here. Chat soon.’

  He’d decided to have a ‘heads in’ with the team before dinner to share what everyone had found so far. He’d already informed Samantha that they’d placed tracking devices within the boxes they had found in the weapons cache, and at least he had kicked off the ludicrous engagement with Nadège. But how the hell would he manufacture the next episode? He needed a lure. Something to entice her.

  ‘OK, who wants to start then?’ Sean asked as the team crammed around the glass kitchen table.

  ‘I think I need to start with the big picture first,’ Samantha chipped in, exuding her command status. Sean watched Jugsy’s eyes roll: he preferred more informal chats to briefings.

  ‘It’s the beginnings of a complex jigsaw that we need to piece together,’ she started. ‘We now have tracking devices on the IEDs, and we know the warehouse is the central logistics hub. But what I want to know is, who is the female that Nadège had sex with the other night? A hooker, or a long-term liaison? And how do we get more from that link?’

  ‘Well the blonde hasn’t returned to the hotel yet,’ Jugsy piped up. ‘I’ve checked the cameras this afternoon. No one has visited her either.’

  Sean sat with his hands behind his head, listening and thinking. The blonde woman who had visited Nadège intrigued him. ‘Let’s find out who she is Sam. Get amongst the staff back home and get her picture circulated across the agencies. We need to find out more about her quickly.’

  ‘Already done,’ Samantha confirmed.

  ‘Good. Anything from the warehouse servers Billy?’

  ‘Yup. Quite a bit actually. Might be of use for the next steps.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘A couple of itineraries for NIGHTOWL and some payments. As they always say, follow the bloody money. The money is being paid out in vast sums all over the place. Plenty to drugs mules by the looks of it and to local facilitators to keep the smuggling routes open across the Balkans. And plenty of dosh going into Belgium too. But the curious ones are linked to Nadège. Money going into Lebanese and Qatari accounts.’

  ‘OK, some great leads Billy. Anything on her next itinerary?’

  ‘Yep, a cruise across the Black Sea. Fancy tagging along?’

  ‘Nice. When?’

  ‘Thursday at 9am. It’s a conference cruise and Nadège was booked to attend about five weeks ago. I’ve got into the system and booked you and Samantha in for the two-day duration.’

  Sean sighed, glancing at Sam’s smiling face before inquiring further. ‘A conference cruise you say? Any ideas what she’s up to?’

  ‘Nope. One for you to square away mate.’

  Sean paused as an idea began to formulate in his mind. ‘What have we got from her phones Sam?’

  ‘Quite a lot of information actually.’ Samantha pushed a piece of paper across the table to Sean. ‘These are all the contacts and I’ve marked the ones she’s been calling the most. We’ll infiltrate those phones and see what we can find today.’

  ‘OK, good stuff everyone. I’m speaking with Jack on a conference call soon and I’ll brief him on where we’re at. Try and get some more details on this conference Billy and a full list of names with any background that might spring a thought on what she’s up to.’

  ‘Probably recruiting nuclear scientists to start uranium processing again,’ Billy Phish said sarcastically. Sean knew he probably wasn’t far from the truth there.

  Sean walked out onto the garden terrace to think of what to say to Jack when he called. He grabbed a file that Sam had printed for him and that had been sent by Jack as a SITREP from the wider intelligence gathering of The Court. He nestled into the deck settee and began reading. What he read concerned the threats beginning to increase across Europe.

  UK SECRET C-OPS ONLY // NO DISCLOSURE // BW // OP LONGHORN //

  An Iranian diplomat and members of an Iranian sleeper cell were arrested this week in Belgium, Germany and France, as they were allegedly planning to bomb a high-level meeting in Paris. The arrests came after a complex investigation by several European intelligence agencies and were announced by Belgium’s Minister of the Interior.

  The operation against the sleeper cell began yesterday when members of Belgium’s Special Forces Group stopped a Mercedes car in Brussels. The car was carrying a married Belgian couple of Iranian descent. One of them was found to be carrying four kilogrammes of triacetone triperoxide (TATP) explosive and detonators inside a toiletries bag. The same day German police arrested an Iranian diplomat stationed in Iran’s embassy in Vienna, Austria. The diplomat was driving a rental car in the German state of Bavaria, heading to Austria. On the same day, a fourth person, who has not been named, was arrested by the French DGSI in connection with the other three arrests.

  The four detainees were in contact with each other and were working for the Iranian government.

  Sean took a few deep breaths, realising the tide was turning fast. Where were the IEDs destined for?

  Chapter 23

  Istanbul

  Sean booted up his encrypted laptop for the secure video call with Jack. He punched in a two-factor authentication code to enter the secure partition of the laptop and then used facial recognition to enter the secure app for the conference call.

  A few minutes later he could see Jack clearly on the screen, noting he was sat in his office in Thames House. ‘Hi Jack, hope all’s well,’ he began.

  There was a slight satellite delay before Sean heard Jack’s response. ‘Not too good I’m afraid Sean. A few bad things have been happening – are you alone?’

  ‘Yes, what’s up?’

  ‘First things first,’ Jack began, leaning towards the camera. ‘Sadly, D had a heart attack yesterday. A very serious one and he died pretty much immediately. Nothing we could do at all. A massive loss to us as you know.’

  ‘Bloody hell Jack.’ Sean hadn’t expected to hear such shocking news. ‘That’s bloody awful: the man was a genuine legend and a bloody good bloke.’

  ‘I know, and it’s hit people quite hard back here. He was very much a loved man both in the service and obviously amongst the wider intelligence family. He’d been busy though in his last days and that’s what I wanted to talk about.’

  Sean didn’t know about the deal D had with Jack, but he’d have been devastated to have heard about what D had been investigating. A case that went back to the cold war and one of only a few files he had ever held safely under lock and key in his office safe. The case was the unsolved murder of a female MI6 agent in 1986. No one had ever found her body. Her handler had ended up in a mental institution in Prague shortly after she was murdered, and he’d been unable to provide any clues to the murder other than that it was very brutal.

  ‘D asked me to show you this letter regarding this case Sean. He only wants you to see it and I’ll send it over by email now. I’ll call you back in twenty minutes. It involves your mother, I’m afraid - and how she disappeared.’

  Sean sat back, gobsmacked. He couldn’t say anything. Dumfounded. He started to grate his jawbones.

  Sean remembered how his father had explained to him that his mother had gone missing. It was in Berlin in 1986. The year of his exams at the Charles Dickens School on Dickensweg. He remembered that day like it was yesterday and a ferocious sweat came over his body as he struggled to hold the drawer in his mind from springing open. He felt that moment. The moment he had felt before – the intervening moment before total breakdown from internal trauma. A sensation he had known from multiple bouts of PTSD over his career. But this one? This one was bad. It hit his soul. It was his mother. And no one could ever answer why she had gone. He’d felt abandoned. Gone in his teenage years, when the bond he had forged with her was at its strongest. The moments when his child’s mind was gr
owing into a man’s. And the reason he ran away from home.

  He grabbed a beer from his fridge and sat at the laptop to read the letter from D. He began to well up.

  My Dearest Sean,

  I know what I am about to tell you will come as a huge shock. Because it concerns your mother’s disappearance back in 1986. If you are reading this letter it is quite simply because I will have passed on from this world and would not have had a chance to tell you personally of the circumstances that I have investigated that led to your mother’s death. From my point of view, that is my saddest moment. That I have been unable to share this with you face to face and completely solve her murder.

  Your mother was a fine woman and a fine agent of the Crown. A woman you should be immensely proud of. What you perhaps don’t know is the extent of her bravery and courage in the face of the enemy amongst hugely stressful circumstances behind the Iron Curtain. She reminded me of those splendid female operators from the SOE in the Second World War. I have now written up a report on her death and issued a note of the circumstances to the Lord Advocate with a recommendation she is awarded as a minimum the George Medal.

  Sean tried to calm his nerves and keep his blood pressure down. He breathed deep and hard, getting as much oxygen into his lungs as possible. It was the best way to deal with the traumatic stresses which he knew at some point would manifest into physical symptoms. For him it was scratching intensely before headaches and running out of breath, which would eventually lead to convulsions. He tried to contain it through his breathing before continuing.

  Your mother was killed by a spy who I believe was a double agent. A man named Fletcher Barrington and a CIA operative in Berlin who your mother worked with regularly. I believe she was killed on the East German border and in all probability buried at the site of her murder.