Global Strike

by Chris Ryan

  The road ploughed through the Virginia plains, taking them past low rolling hills, sprawling vineyards and cattle ranches. The sun was fully up now, a white-hot orb suspended in the clear sky. When they were five miles clear of the house, Porter turned to Cooper and pressed the Five-Seven against his ribs.

  ‘Start fucking talking,’ he said.

  ‘I told you already. I don’t know anything, I swear.’

  Porter simmered with rage. He shoved the Five-Seven harder against Cooper’s ribcage. The agent winced, squirming in his seat as the hammer-forged tip dug into his flesh.

  ‘Tell me,’ Porter growled. ‘Or I’ll put one through your chest. Your choice.’

  He didn’t want to let off a round in the car. The Five-Seven had a louder report and brighter muzzle flash than a standard nine-milli pistol. If he fired a bullet inside the Cruze, the handful of other motorists on the road would see and hear it. But Cooper didn’t know that.

  ‘Please,’ Cooper said. ‘Please, don’t do this.’

  Porter’s index finger tightened a quarter of an inch around the Five-Seven trigger. ‘Last chance. Tell us what the fuck is going on, or you can join your Russian mates.’

  ‘I had no choice!’ Cooper blurted. ‘They were going to kill my family unless I agreed to help them!’

  Porter kept the Five-Seven digging into Cooper’s side. ‘Who?’

  ‘The Russians.’

  ‘You led them to the safe house?’

  Cooper nodded. ‘My contact gave me a burner. I had orders to call them as soon as we’d located Charles.’

  Bald scowled at him in the rear-view mirror. ‘That’s why you kept taking them cigarette breaks. You weren’t gasping for a crafty fag. You were reaching out to your Russian mates.’

  ‘I couldn’t make the call in the car. Not with you two listening in. I knew that no one else in the house was a smoker. It was the only way I could get a few minutes alone.’

  Porter now understood why Cooper had been on edge for most of the night. Constantly checking the time, pacing up and down. At the time, he’d simply assumed the MI6 man was eager to get on the road. But that hadn’t been the case at all.

  The bastard was just waiting for the Russians to show up.

  He understood something else too. ‘That bullshit about the comms unit acting up. That was just so you could get Stillman out of sight and disable the alarm.’

  Cooper lowered his gaze to his feet. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who’s your contact?’

  ‘An agent, over at the Russian embassy. We knew each other from my time working in Moscow.’

  Porter said, ‘You’re working for the Kremlin?’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Cooper said, his voice quivering with fear. ‘You can’t say no to these people. They were threatening to kill my wife and kids unless I cooperated.’

  ‘I thought the Russian mob was behind the snatch squad,’ Bald said. ‘The ones with the tats.’

  Cooper shook his head. ‘They’re working for the Kremlin. They outsourced the job to one of the crime bosses. A man named Artem Zhirkov.’

  Porter listened in silence. He’d heard the stories about the Russian security services hiring mafia bosses to do their dirty work. Overseas assassinations, cyber-hacking, selling arms to Russia’s friends abroad. In return, the mobsters were free to carry out their criminal activities unchecked.

  He said, ‘If Zhirkov’s working for the Kremlin, who has the sex tape?’

  ‘The FSB. They’ve been waiting for the right moment to use the tape against the new president.’

  ‘So the Russian mafia aren’t the ones behind the blackmail plot?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You fucking lied to us,’ Bald said. ‘Back at the safe house.’

  ‘I just told you what was in the dossier,’ Cooper protested. ‘Which is mostly true. There’ is a sex tape of the president, and the Russians are planning to use it against him.’

  ‘Where are Zhirkov’s mob taking Street now?’ Porter demanded.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Cooper averted his gaze as he replied. It was obvious to Porter that he was lying through his teeth. He shoved the barrel into the side of Cooper’s cheek and curled his finger tighter around the trigger.

  ‘Tell me, or I’ll end your shit excuse of a life.’

  The agent’s eyes widened with fear. Drops of sweat trickled down his cheeks, staining the Five-Seven barrel. Porter kept the gun in place as Bald held the Cruze to a steady forty miles per hour on the single-lane road. Porter glanced up, checking that both sides of the road were clear of traffic. Rush-hour in rural Virginia.

  ‘Where are they taking Street?’ he snapped. ‘Tell me!’

  ‘All I was told was that they were smuggling Charles out of the country. To a mansion outside Moscow, owned by Zhirkov.’

  ‘Why take him there?’

  ‘Zhirkov has got a secret torture chamber there. They’re going to interrogate Charles.’

  ‘What the fuck for?’

  ‘The Russians want the sex tape to remain a secret. They need to know how many copies Charles made of his dossier. Where to find them. The passwords to his computers. Everything. They want to make sure that his report stays buried forever.’

  From behind the wheel, Bald sucked the air between his teeth. ‘Street won’t hold out long against those henchmen.’

  Porter pressed the Five-Seven harder against Cooper’s cheek. ‘Where is this mobster’s place?’

  ‘If I tell you now, you’ll just kill me.’

  ‘We’ll slot you if you don’t.’

  Cooper said nothing.

  ‘We don’t need this cunt,’ Bald said. ‘We’ve got the mobster’s name. Six can tell us where his gaff is.’

  ‘They won’t know where to find it,’ Cooper replied. ‘That hideout is a well-kept secret. There’s nothing in the deeds, nothing to trace it back to Zhirkov. Only a handful of people know it even exists. I’m the only one who can lead you there.’

  Bald met Porter’s gaze in the rear-view. ‘Bastard’s lying. He’d say anything to save his own arse. We should pull over. Drop this wanker.’

  Cooper said, ‘You can’t kill me. Do that, and you’ll never get Charles back.’

  ‘Maybe not. But we’d get a kick out of blowing your fucking brains out.’

  Cooper was still trembling but Porter noted a defiant gleam in his eyes. He’s got us by the balls and he knows it. ‘How do we know you’re telling the truth?’ he asked.

  ‘You don’t. But it’s your only option.’

  Porter felt a shiver run through him as he remembered what Tannon had said at the briefing.

  If our enemies capture Street, they’ll have an ex-spy who knows all the secrets.

  It’ll be a national security disaster.

  And we’ll be in a world of shit.

  ‘Even if what this twat says is true,’ Bald argued, ‘how are we going to rescue Street from the Russians? He’ll be heavily guarded by the mobster’s toughs.’

  ‘I’ve been to Zhirkov’s mansion before,’ Cooper said. ‘Several times, in fact. I know the layout. There are ways around his security ring.’

  Bald shook his head furiously. ‘We can’t trust this twat. He betrayed us, mate. He got Stillman killed. Almost got the pair of us slotted too.’

  Porter held the gun up for a moment. He was sorely tempted to put a round through the guy’s skull. But he knew he couldn’t do it. If he killed Cooper, they could forget about locating Street.

  He relaxed his finger slightly on the trigger.

  Lowered the gun.

  ‘The fuck are you doing?’ Bald said.

  ‘He’s right. Cooper. We need him alive.’

  Cooper exhaled in relief. Porter turned to him in the back seat. Shot him a long, hard look.

  ‘We’ll get you across the border,’ he said. ‘Then you’re gonna lead us to that mobster’s pad. But if you try and escape, by the time we’re done with you, you’ll wish you were f
ucking dead.’

  THIRTY-THREE

  They drove on through wine country. Cooper went quiet, his gaze lowered to his feet, shoulders hunched. Porter rested the Five-Seven on his lap and took out the ghost phone. He drew up the list of recent calls from the menu and thumbed the trackball over the latest entry. Then he tapped the call icon and dialled Moorcroft’s number.

  The line took a few seconds to patch through. Longer than a regular call. Something to do with the encryption, he guessed. Moorcroft picked up on the fourth buzz.

  ‘Well? Are you out of there?’

  Porter said, ‘The Russians hit us before we could leave. A bunch of those fuckers stormed the safe house. The housekeeper’s dead.’

  There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. Porter had never seen Moorcroft look flustered, but he imagined that was what he looked like right about now.

  ‘What about Street?’ he asked.

  ‘They’ve taken him. They got away before we could stop them.’

  Moorcroft muttered a curse. ‘How the hell could you let this happen? I told you idiots to get out of there immediately.’

  ‘There was no time. The Russians were all over us before we could get our shit together. Me and Jock held out for as long as we could, but the bastards kept coming.’

  ‘What about Cooper?’

  ‘He’s here with us in the car.’ Porter hesitated. ‘He sold us out. He’s the one who led the Russians to the safe house.’

  ‘Cooper? Impossible. He’s one of our most experienced agents.’

  ‘We found a burner on him. Cooper used it to call his man over at the Russian embassy and direct the Russians to our location.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘He confessed after we roughed him up. Told us everything. Says he’s been working for the Russians the whole time. He told them about the dossier Street had put together. Cooper set him up.’

  ‘Terry’s working for the Russian mafia?’ Moorcroft sounded dubious.

  ‘It wasn’t my fault!’ Cooper had turned towards Porter and was shouting at the ghost phone glued to his ear, arguing his case. ‘I had to do what they told me!’

  ‘Shut up!’ Porter snapped at him. A swift gesture with the Five-Seven emphasised the point. Cooper got the message and abruptly clamped his mouth shut.

  ‘He’s not with the mob,’ Porter said, refocusing on the conversation with Moorcroft. ‘Cooper says he’s working for the Russian security services. They co-opted one of the crime bosses into doing their dirty work. Some bloke called Artem Zhirkov.’

  Moorcroft said nothing for several beats. Porter heard the drumming of fingers down the line. ‘Do we know where Street is being taken now?’

  ‘Zhirkov’s got a hideout, in the middle of nowhere. Cooper reckons the henchmen are gonna take Street there and rough him up.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To find out where the other copies of the dossier are. The Kremlin want the sex tape to remain secret.’

  Moorcroft was quiet for a moment. ‘How do you know about the tape?’

  ‘Cooper told us everything. The blackmail attempt, the hundred million dollars.’

  ‘I see.’ Moorcroft steepled his fingers again, as if tapping out a thought. ‘What’s the address for the mobster boss’s place?’

  ‘Cooper won’t tell us. Not until we’ve got him out of the country and into Russia.’

  ‘You should have consulted us first.’

  ‘There was no time. We had to bug out of the safe house before the cops showed up. But if you’ve got a better idea for getting Street out of Russia, I’d love to hear it.’

  Moorcroft’s silence said everything. ‘If you’re going to smuggle Cooper across the border, you’ll have to be careful not to alert our American friends.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Their agents are monitoring the embassy in DC. We think they’ve made the connection between Terry and Charles and are sniffing around, seeing what comes up. But if Cooper tries to get through on his passport, they’ll pull him aside.’

  ‘What about the Canadians?’

  ‘They won’t have access to that information. Not for a while.’

  Porter clenched the ghost phone tight in his hand. This fucking op. It doesn’t get any easier.

  ‘Did you clean out the house, at least?’ Moorcroft asked.

  ‘We’ve got the electronics. Hard drives, the encryption kit. Plus the security camera footage. Stillman’s laptop got shot to pieces when the Russians attacked.’

  ‘None of that stuff is to survive. If the police somehow find out that Stillman was working for us, it could lead to some very awkward conversations.’

  ‘We’ll take care of it.’

  ‘Good.’ Moorcroft cleared his throat. ‘What’s your ETA?’

  ‘We’re on the road now. Should make the border in about eight hours.’

  ‘I’ll let Tannon know. She’ll meet you on the other side.’

  Porter sat upright. ‘Dom’s meeting with us?’

  ‘She wanted to handle the debrief herself. Especially after she learned about the Russian involvement. She’s in the air now but I’ll update her on the situation once she’s landed.’

  Porter furrowed his brow. He’d worked for Six for long enough to know that someone as high up as Tannon didn’t get involved in field duties. Not unless it was a big fucking deal. ‘We’re going to need some help once we’re on the other side. We can’t just hop on a plane to Russia.’

  ‘Dom will take care of all that. She’s carrying a burner. I’ll send through her number after this call. Contact her as soon as you’re safely across the border.’

  Moorcroft clicked off the call. Porter put the ghost phone to sleep and stared out of the window.

  Questions bit away at him. He thought again about the bodies in the safe house.

  Eleven dead.

  Something that didn’t make sense.

  He put away the phone and looked over at Cooper. The guy stared vacantly ahead, watching the road but not really watching it. A kind of calm had settled over his face. A defendant on the wrong end of a guilty verdict, waiting to be sentenced.‘Why are the Russians so desperate to stop this dossier from being made public?’ Porter asked.

  Cooper continued to stare ahead as he replied. ‘I’d have thought that was obvious. Blackmail.’

  ‘But this is the Kremlin we’re talking about. They’re not exactly short of a few quid.’

  Cooper shook his head. ‘The security services aren’t interested in cash. They’re playing a longer game. They believe they can use the sex tape to make the president do their bidding.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m not privy to their plans. But I suspect they’ll want to use it to advance Russia’s interests. They could force the president to drop sanctions, for example. Or persuade him to withdraw from NATO, forcing the entire thing to collapse.’

  ‘Over a skin tape?’

  ‘Whoever has that tape can force the president to do their bidding. He’d do anything to avoid it coming to light. Which is why the Russians are so determined to stop Charles going public.’

  Bald grunted. ‘Sounds like a lot of fuss over a tape of some old bloke shagging a hooker.’

  Cooper shot a withering look. ‘You Hereford types wouldn’t understand. They train you to kill the enemy. You don’t see the bigger picture here.’

  ‘At least we don’t go around stabbing each other in the back.’

  ‘You’re referring to Charles, I presume.’

  ‘Who the fuck else?’

  ‘Charles put himself in danger long before I did.’

  ‘How? By doing his job?’

  ‘By threatening to go public with his findings.’

  ‘You could have helped him. You didn’t need to sell him out to your Russian chums.’

  ‘If I’d said nothing and the dossier came to light, the Russians would have realised I’d withheld vital information from them. They would have exec
uted me, as well as my family. I had no choice.’

  ‘So you betrayed Street to the Kremlin instead?’

  ‘What else could I have done? Gone to Six? They couldn’t have protected Charles from the Russians. No one is safe from them. Even someone as thick as you must surely see that.’

  ‘I can see that you’re a backstabbing twat. That’s clear as fuck.’

  Porter said, ‘How long have you been working for the Kremlin?’

  ‘Long enough. Fifteen years.’

  ‘What did they offer you? Money?’

  Cooper hung his head low.

  ‘I had gambling debts. Back when I was working at the embassy in Russia. Some of the people I owed money to, they made the average loan shark look respectable. They were making all kinds of threats. I didn’t know where to go. Then one night this guy approaches me in one of the bars off Red Square. An FSB agent. Said he’d heard about my problems and wanted to offer me a way out. That’s how they suck you in. They find a weak point, and exploit it.’

  ‘Why didn’t you go to your boss and ask for help?’

  ‘I couldn’t. Don’t you see? If I’d gone to my superior and said I was in financial difficulty, that would have been the end of my career at MI6. Officers in the intelligence service can’t have money problems. It would leave them open to blackmail.’

  ‘Yeah, and you just fucking proved it,’ Bald snapped from the front seat.

  ‘I didn’t see the harm,’ Cooper said. ‘It was just the occasional piece of intelligence. Nothing more than that. Later on, they started making more serious demands. Tampering with documents. Spreading misinformation. Tipping them off about British operations.’

  Porter said, ‘You sold out your mates, over a few quid you owed to some dodgy bookies?’

  ‘It was more than a few quid. I’d racked up serious debts. We’re talking tens of thousands. My wife was threatening to leave, because of the drinking. I wasn’t thinking right. If I could go back now, I would have done things differently. But I didn’t.’

  ‘Why did you keep working for them, after your debts were paid off?’

  ‘I tried. But whenever I told them I’d had enough, they threatened to release video footage of me. They had me on tape, accepting a bag of money from a Russian associate. Twenty grand. It would have been the ruin of me.’