Gray Salvation

by Alan McDermott

  ‘We at hospital forty minutes,’ the driver said as the small convoy set off.

  Gray looked back and saw the tanks maintaining their position, glad to know that a mighty buffer now lay between his team and the Russians.

  ‘I really need to speak to Ellis as soon as possible,’ Harvey told Gray. ‘There’s going to be an assassination attempt on President Milenko, and I know how they plan to do it.’

  Gray tapped the Tagrilistani soldier on the back. ‘We need to make a phone call,’ he said, using the international sign to make his point.

  The soldier shrugged. ‘At hospital.’

  Gray looked to Harvey, who nodded wearily. It had been a long shot, hoping to contact England while still in the field.

  ‘Tell me everything,’ he said to Harvey. ‘When we get to the hospital, I’ll call her while they patch you up.’

  Veronica Ellis was still fuming at Greminov’s attitude as she hurried back to the office. It amazed her that people in his position could use the lives of others as a way of scoring points in a game of political one-upmanship. The man would have been happy to let Harvey and Gray’s team perish simply because saving them wouldn’t provide any tangible benefit.

  She could only hope that her threat would be taken seriously, otherwise . . .

  Her phone vibrated on her hip – caller ID told her it was Solomon.

  ‘What is it, Elaine?’

  ‘Where are you? I’ve got possible news about Sarah.’

  ‘I’m five minutes away. What have you heard?’

  ‘Someone reported a woman who claimed to be MI5 and who matched her description being attacked and dragged into Bessonov’s restaurant,’ Solomon said.

  Damn it! She should have guessed Sarah would go after Bessonov. He was, after all, at the heart of all this.

  ‘Check local CCTV for confirmation and get SO15 on the phone. I’ll be there in two minutes.’

  Ellis ended the call and quickened her pace, hitting the Speed-dial button for her superior’s mobile.

  ‘It’s about Alexi Bessonov,’ she began without preamble.

  ‘We’ve been over this,’ the home secretary said. ‘You’re—’

  ‘Just listen, please.’ Ellis summed up the new information in ten seconds. ‘I want to send SO15 in to get her.’

  ‘Do you have absolute proof that Bessonov is involved?’

  ‘Nothing beyond what the witness reported. I’ve got my people going over the CCTV to confirm it.’

  ‘Fine,’ the home secretary said, ‘but unless you see him taking part in any crime, you don’t touch him. You don’t even speak to him. Am I clear?’

  ‘Crystal.’

  Ellis snapped the phone shut and prayed the Russian had been careless enough to let himself be captured on film.

  She walked into the lobby of Thames House and jogged up the stairs, then swiped her card to gain access to the main office.

  Elaine stood as she entered and handed her a couple of sheets of paper. ‘This is the report we got from the traffic warden who saw the woman being abducted.’

  Traffic warden. That must have been what the receptionist had been trying to tell her. If only she’d taken a few seconds to listen, they could have been working this for the last half hour.

  She scanned the notes. ‘It says he saw it happen just before one this afternoon. Why did he wait until four to inform us?’

  ‘I asked him the very same thing. It seems Sarah – if it is Sarah – threatened and belittled him before she went into the restaurant. He said his first thoughts were that it served her right, but his conscience got the better of him.’

  So a traffic warden’s hurt feelings could be the difference between finding Thompson alive and in one piece, or . . .

  The alternative wasn’t worth considering.

  ‘Who’s working the CCTV?’ she asked.

  A hand went up and she walked over to Gareth Bailey’s desk, where a black-and-white image was being refreshed every second. Bessonov’s restaurant, the Petrushkin, could be seen at the top of the screen, and a large figure was standing outside the front door, but the footage was grainy and it was difficult to distinguish facial features.

  ‘Ask Gerald to run it through a filter and enhance it,’ Ellis said.

  ‘He already did,’ Bailey told her. ‘This is the result.’

  ‘That’s all we have available?’

  Bailey nodded. ‘There’s no other coverage in the immediate area. This one is from a traffic camera two streets away. It’s as if he chose the location for the privacy.’

  ‘Or used his influence to get any existing cameras removed.’

  Ellis watched the screen as a dark saloon pulled up outside the restaurant and the occupant got out. If the coverage had been a continuous feed it wouldn’t have been so bad, but all they had was a still shot taken every second, making it difficult to get a real feel of the events unfolding on the screen.

  The occupant of the car appeared to have light hair, much like Thompson’s, and was soon joined by someone who looked to be wearing a high-visibility jacket.

  ‘Is that the traffic warden?’ Ellis asked.

  ‘We think so,’ Bailey said. ‘The time frame matches.’

  The pair stood together on screen for the next dozen frames, then split up as one went inside the restaurant and the other disappeared out of shot. Three minutes passed before the door opened once more and two figures emerged, one in front of the other. As the screen flicked to the next image, the figure at the front was on the ground and the one at the rear appeared to be falling, apparently from a blow delivered by the large doorman. In the next frame the blonde lay prone on the ground; three frames later she had been dragged back inside.

  ‘Run that part again.’ Ellis leaned in closer in an effort to establish if the figure in the foreground was Bessonov, but it was impossible to tell.

  ‘I’ve got SO15 on the line,’ Eddie Howes said, holding up his handset.

  Whereas SO1’s remit was to protect British and foreign ministers, their counterparts in SO15 formed the Counter Terrorism Command and worked closely with the security services in situations where armed police were needed. Ellis picked up the phone in front of her and hit the button to connect the call.

  ‘Commander, this is Veronica Ellis.’

  She made a signal for Bailey to run the sequence one more time.

  ‘We’re ready to go on your word,’ said the SO15 commander.

  Ellis said nothing as she watched the scene play out a third time, yet still couldn’t be a hundred per cent sure if Bessonov was the man on the screen.

  ‘Ma’am, my team are five minutes out.’

  Ellis knew she’d used up enough lives to put a dozen cats to shame, and if she screwed this up, the home secretary would be looking for her replacement before teatime. That said, it would be a lot easier to find another job than to live with Sarah’s death on her conscience.

  ‘Tell your men to hold position. I want to be there when you take him down.’

  Ellis beeped her horn as the car in front crawled along at fifteen miles an hour – she was desperate to meet up with the Metropolitan Police’s armed counter-terrorism unit.

  Thompson had last been seen over four hours earlier; each second in Bessonov’s hands was one too many. Ellis only hoped they could find her in time. She’d left instructions for Bailey to continue monitoring the CCTV feed to see if Bessonov or Thompson had emerged at any point, but so far there had been no news. That meant she was either still inside, or she’d been spirited out of the rear entrance. If that were the case, they would be back to square one, with no real evidence and Bessonov’s lawyer crying foul once more.

  Her phone buzzed and she hit the button on the steering wheel to connect the call via Bluetooth.

  ‘Ellis.’

  ‘It’s Gareth. Still no sign of anyone leaving, but we did see someone come out and throw water on the pavement and scrub it with a brush. It could be that whoever was knocked over lost some bloo
d, and they were cleaning it up.’

  Finally, some encouraging news.

  She winced at the thought of Thompson being injured so badly, but it could prove a blessing in disguise.

  ‘I want a SOCO standing by.’

  ‘Already alerted,’ Bailey said. ‘Just give the word.’

  Ellis thanked him for the good work and disconnected, then steered around the slow-moving car in front and sped past.

  Ten minutes later she saw the firearms team: three cars occupying a bus stop a couple of streets from Bessonov’s restaurant. Ellis pulled in behind the last car and got out. The passenger in the lead car decamped and walked over to her and checked her credentials.

  ‘Sergeant Bury,’ he said, shaking her hand, and explained what they were about to do.

  ‘Do you know how many people are inside?’ Ellis asked.

  ‘We’ve been liaising with Gayle Cooper from your office,’ Bury told her. ‘They usually have one man stationed outside the front door. We’re estimating three possible hostiles inside, plus wait and kitchen staff. We’ll be going in front and back simultaneously.’

  Ellis took out her phone and opened the gallery app. ‘This is our main suspect,’ she said, handing it over with a recent picture of Alexi Bessonov on the screen. ‘I’d like you to take him alive, if possible.’

  ‘That’s usually the plan,’ Bury said, clearly piqued by the suggestion.

  ‘I appreciate that, but these people are always armed. Make sure your men are aware of that.’

  The officer gave her a look that said ‘we know what we’re doing’ and walked back to his car, but he stopped halfway and spoke into his radio. Ellis couldn’t hear his words but guessed he was passing on her information.

  Either that or some disparaging comment about women in authority.

  When Bury reached his car, he turned back to her. ‘When we stop by the rear of the building, hang back until I come and get you.’

  ‘Suits me,’ Ellis said, and walked back to her car. This was one time she was happy to leave it to others. Others who were armed and ready to kill if necessary.

  The convoy took off, with Ellis bringing up the rear. Each time they approached a traffic light, the police cars lit up like Christmas trees, though they refrained from using their sirens. Ellis assumed they didn’t want to announce their arrival, a prudent move when about to tackle armed mobsters.

  Her adrenalin was pumping by the time the lead car stopped forty yards from the corner where the restaurant was situated, and the fire teams poured out from their vehicles and took up positions, with the third car in the convoy parked sideways to block the street. While she waited for them to strike, Ellis called Bailey and told him to send the scenes of crime officer in five minutes. She hoped the takedown wouldn’t result in a hostage situation, but if it did, they could just hold back until it was resolved.

  Night had already fallen as Ellis watched the four-man squad that had been designated the task of breaching the rear of the building. One of them slowly tested the round doorknob and shook his head, then lifted up his Enforcer – a portable red, steel battering ram. He stood ready to launch it at the door as one of the other officers signalled their status over the radio.

  Further down the street, Ellis could see a team of six lined up against the side of the corner building, ready to go.

  When the signal came, the lead squad disappeared around the corner, and she heard shouts as they tackled the doorman. The team at the rear were also in motion. It took two attempts with the Enforcer before the door crashed inwards and the men piled in with their MP5 machine guns raised. Ellis heard more shouts as the kitchen staff were ordered to the floor.

  Then came the sound she was dreading.

  Gunfire.

  She closed her eyes and prayed that neither Sarah nor Bessonov had been on the receiving end of the rounds.

  The wait for news was excruciating. She was tempted to jump out of her car and see for herself, but appreciated the danger involved in rushing into a scene full of pumped-up men carrying firearms.

  After an interminable wait, the senior officer appeared at the corner of the building and motioned for her to join him.

  Ellis reached him in seconds.

  ‘I heard shots. What happened?’

  ‘Some guy came out of the toilet with a pistol in his hand. He was ordered to drop it but he aimed it at my officers. They took him down.’

  ‘Was it Bessonov?’ Ellis asked.

  ‘No, he’s been secured.’

  ‘What about Sarah? Any sign of her?’

  ‘None,’ Bury said. ‘We’ve got seven males, including the one who was shot.’

  Ellis’s heart sank. They must have taken Thompson out through the rear entrance at some point.

  ‘I need to see Bessonov,’ she said.

  Bury looked less than impressed at the idea. ‘It’s my crime scene,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I can’t let you in.’

  Ellis hadn’t expected this, so caught up in events that she hadn’t considered police protocols.

  ‘I’m going to have to override you,’ she said, and then quickly explained how Thompson appeared to have been injured in the CCTV footage, making it likely that they’d find her blood on the premises.

  ‘SOCO’s a few minutes away,’ she added. ‘I need them to check the place with Luminol, but first I need to speak to Bessonov.’

  Bury got on the radio and passed her request on to the commander, and a minute later she was given the go-ahead.

  ‘Have they been read their rights?’ she asked, getting an affirmative response.

  She brushed past Bury and walked to the entrance of the Petrushkin just as the wail of an ambulance siren pierced the early evening traffic noise. Inside she saw a body lying in the narrow hallway at the far end of the room, where two officers were packing away a first-aid kit.

  Tables had been pushed aside, and six men were lined up in seating positions against a wall, all handcuffed. Ellis kept to the side of the red carpet that ran the length of the room and walked over to the prisoners.

  Bessonov faced her, looking as if he were waiting for a bus. Not a flicker of emotion, not even mild irritation at the damage done to his restaurant. Gayle Cooper had told her that he was a cool customer, and she had the unenviable job of trying to break through his nonchalant façade.

  ‘A blonde woman came here earlier today,’ she said. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. I just arrived for something to eat.’

  ‘Nice try, Alexi, but we’ve got you on camera arriving hours ago.’

  ‘I would say that was an intrusion into my private life, Miss . . .?’

  ‘Veronica Ellis. I’m the director general of MI5, and I’m here for one of my operatives.’

  ‘Ah, yes, Ellis. Good to finally put a face to the voice. Speaking of which, I believe I’m entitled to a phone call.’

  ‘Not when you’re being arrested under the Terrorism Act,’ Ellis said. ‘Now tell me where Sarah Thompson is.’

  ‘Never heard of her.’

  ‘But you did see a blonde woman here earlier, didn’t you?’

  Bessonov stared into her eyes. ‘I think I’ll wait for my lawyer before I say anything else.’

  Ellis’s only surprise was that he’d said anything at all. She’d expected him to remain silent under questioning, and now he wasn’t disappointing her. She stared back at him for a couple of moments, until the scene of crime officer put his head through the door.

  ‘Ma’am?’

  She walked over to the entrance and the man introduced himself as Gary Bryan.

  ‘I’m hoping there’s a trail of blood on this red carpet,’ Ellis told him. ‘I need you to take samples and see if it matches a profile we have on record.’

  All operatives had DNA samples stored on a secure database, and with modern methods Ellis was hopeful of establishing a match within a couple of hours. If they could, it would be enough to place Thompson at the sce
ne and put Bessonov atop some very thin ice.

  Bryan passed the instructions on to his team. Within minutes they had blacked out the windows with tarpaulin to blot out the glare of the street lights and, after turning off the lights inside, begun spraying the floor with Luminol. Immediately, a small blue fluorescent trail appeared. Bryan put down markers and took pictures before the next section was sprayed. A second technician followed Bryan, collecting samples of the blood they’d discovered.

  The faint traces of blood suggested someone had cleaned the carpet, but the Luminol was able to pick it out as the chemical reacted with the iron in the haemoglobin.

  ‘When we match this blood to Sarah, you’re going down,’ Ellis said to Bessonov, who simply shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘If anything happened here, it was without my knowledge.’

  Ellis found his demeanour frustrating but wasn’t about to admit defeat. She walked over to the first technician and took the bottle from his hand, then went back to the Russian and stood in front of him.

  ‘This should be illuminating,’ she said, and began spraying him from his shoulders down to the top of his shoes.

  She expected to see blue spots all over him, but was sorely disappointed.

  ‘I expect you to pay to have this suit dry-cleaned,’ Bessonov said, offering his first sign of emotion in the form of a smug grin.

  An exasperated Ellis handed the bottle back to the SOCO so that he could continue his work. She went to the door to speak to Sergeant Bury.

  ‘He must have changed clothes,’ she told him. ‘Get your men to search every inch of this place.’

  ‘We already have.’

  ‘Even upstairs?’

  ‘There isn’t one. At least not one that can be accessed from inside the restaurant. Trust me, we’ve checked every door.’

  Ellis felt a terrible weight in the pit of her gut. It meant Sarah was definitely gone, and the chances of finding her alive diminished with every passing second.

  ‘Mr Bryan,’ she called, ‘can you please check for bloodstains at the rear door, inside and out?’

  The SOCO nodded but carried on with his work, laying down more markers next to glowing samples.