Now, of course, my attentions would need to be focussed on the ethereal individual the Russians had called Nergal. We planned to have a closed session when Niklas arrived at 1300. Personally I wanted to try and understand the motivation. I was hoping it would be a little more than just good old fashioned greed. Nergal was a man described as a broker, faith and politics didn’t seem to be high on his agenda…
We had set up in my office. Norman had been busy with the INTEL March’s men had found together with Sergei’s pot of gold, piecing together the relevant sections which could possibly overlap. We had decided that Meier would be given copies of all of it as well as the voice recordings. Robin had been busy over the road having this sanctioned first by the Foreign Secretary then signed off by the PM, such was the sensitivity of it…
“Ah Niklas, at last…! Guten tag…”
We shook hands warmly,
“Hello Jan…! So, this is where it happens…?”
He was looking around, absorbing everything… He was weighing me up too.
“Your facility is very modern. It’s impressive…”
“Personally, I think it was the threat rather than my idea which secured the budget…”
“Compass, it was your idea…?”
“Initially yes… I was very lucky with personnel very early on…” “Ah yes, Chris and Charles… We know these two, of course. Chris
I have met before… Norman is new to us, but I hear positive reports…”
“You do, do you…? How interesting…? Come, we are in my office…”
After pleasant introductions we sat, Niklas instantly focussed on the files before him,
“We know your time is limited and due to your level of cooperation, it has been decided to share all of what we have. We have copies of everything for you to take away so your departments can disseminate at leisure…”
“I appreciate this; I also know you are not being so forthcoming with the Dutch, the French and the Belgians… So…?”
“Understood… Amongst other jewels before you is, what we believe to be, proof of Verena Bezold’s role, her connection with PIRA and communication with POI’s in the Middle Eastern region. We can also piece together the transit of the Semtex used. With the joint covert operations taking place, we felt you may be able to assist us further…”
He put his hand on the two cassette cases, “And these…?”
“Confirmed voice recordings of the now deceased senior PIRA member and a new player, the man we believe is the link in the chain, the man who finances the campaigns. His codename is Nergal. There is another. However we have absolutely nothing on him or her…”
Chris continued,
“The other recording is of a German female, again conversing with this broker. Our match is poor though, only 62%. We think it’s Bezold. We were hoping you could assist with this as well…?”
“May I…?”
We all nodded, he secured the earpiece then pressed the “play” lever. He then stopped, rewound and repeated the process. He did this several times.
“I will confirm that it is Bezold, I would also conclude that some of the vokabular would indicate an intimacy between them, a long standing bekanntschaft…? How do you say…?
It was Norman who helped with the translation… “An acquaintance…”
“Ah yes, acquaintance, at the very least… The other voice is unknown to me… This is the same male speaking to the Irishman, yes…?”
“It is…”
He paused thoughtfully before continuing,
“We have recordings too, voice interceptions from the local area. They are not the same man. Maybe the other person involved…?”
“That could well be a fair assessment…”
“I will see to it that you have them… I also need to go back in time. In the seventies Bezold was in the Yemen feeding information to West German Intelligence, I wonder if she made this friendship then…?”
We all stood,
“So, what are your plans for the evening…?”
“Dinner at the embassy, I believe there is some sort of concert too…”
“Very nice…”
“Yes, we don’t get invited to many of these outside of Germany. It also fits well with my plans, I’ll have the files taken there, I can then travel home with them on Monday in a diplomatic pouch…”
“Until the next time Niklas…”
Again there were warm handshakes all round,
“Yes… I believe there will be few more of these… Auf Wiedersehen…”
“Auf Wiedersehen…”
After we saw the lift doors close we headed directly to Robin’s office,
“What do you think…?”
“I listened to all of it… The BND have a lot more… He knows that, he just doesn’t know the extent of their INTEL. I have a feeling that the joint operation in the region is soon to become larger. I need to speak to the third floor. Their AIP’s may need a little further encouragement… I think this is deeper than we think…”
Robin quizzically looked at me,
“So Iain, I see you’re on leave now…?”
“Yes… I’m off to Greece in the morning for two weeks…”
“Good…! It’s just what you need… I’m sure I’ll see you when you get back…?”
And what did that mean…? He’d said it with just a faint hint of doubt… I looked at him inquisitively…
“Er, yes… I’m sure you will…”
Chris grabbed my elbow as I returned to my office, “What was that all about…?”
“Do you know, I have absolutely no idea…?”
*****
Abdul-Khaliq Nazari’s Rolls Royce swished to a halt outside the entrance to the British Embassy in Sana’a, Yemen. Surrounded by bodyguards he made his way quickly up the stone steps where an usher promptly relieved him of his coat, he was then directed through the large oak double doors on his right…
He would meet another man before his official appointment began.
Quietly a side door opened to reveal a white male in his thirties dressed in a navy coloured suit walk swiftly toward him…
“Abdul, the campaign was a failure…”
“On the contrary Alistair, it allowed us to witness first-hand the nature and robustness of their response. What can you tell me…?”
“There doesn’t appear to be an escalation planned in the region. The usual surveillance is continuing, also, the Irishman has been found dead…”
“Excellent, one less loose end. My partners insist on the plan continuing, we are assessing new targets as we speak… I will require your services as before…You must also begin your role, the cultivation of the woman is vital.”
“Very well…”
The white male retreated back through the side door…
*****
I wasn’t hearing things; my apartment doorbell was definitely ringing, repeatedly. I stepped from the shower grabbed a towel and strode, a little annoyed, to the door,
“Charlie…?”
“Aye laddie, in the flesh…”
He raised a carrier bag in his left hand and a bottle in his right,
“I bear gifts…! Nice tan…”
“Thanks…Are you allowed out this late…?”
“Yer cheeky wee bugger, yer Uncle Charlie hasnae seen you in a fortnight and comes to share his dinner and a wee dram and this is the welcome I get…”
“I think you’ve already enjoyed a wee dram or five… Christ how much chilli did they put on your kebab…?”
“Och that lovely wee girl always gives me extra… Now grab the glasses, I cannae drink alone…”
I’d been back in the country for three hours and just wanted my bed but he clearly had something on his mind so I decided to play along. I walked to the kitchen for cutlery and clean glasses. My apartment was open plan. The kitchen, separated by a breakfast bar, opened onto the living room which had a patio door which led to a balcony and a view of the Thames. I shouted back
,
“So what have you been upto…?”
“The Montague Club with Robin. Their steak and kidney pudding is amazing. We’ve both been enjoying their rather fine malt too…”
“You and Robin…?”
“Aye, we’ve done it before when the occasion called for it…”
I poured two generous measures from the bottle of Glenfiddich and passed one over,
“Eighteen year old malt, Charlie I’m touched…”
Charlie looked at his measure and nodded approvingly,
“Well laddie, I’ll say this for yer, no one can ever say you were ever tight…”
He then fixed me with his steely stare before continuing,
“Nor I doubt, will they ever son…”
I placed my takeaway on the glass coffee table. I’d had enough of this game now. I didn’t want to play anymore…
“Ok Haddon, what gives…?”
This time he fixed me with a forlorn look, he was upset.
“It’s Compass laddie, it’s Compass… They’re taking it away from you son. I caught a whiff of it from dispatches, that incompetent bastard Wright-Stevens was gloating, taking the piss he was… I cornered Robin and frogmarched him to his club…”
He held up his hand, finger and thumb an inch apart,
“I was this close to dragging his arse into a back alley and beating the shit out of him until he told me the full story…”
The doorbell rang once again, “Popular tonight aren’t I…?”
I opened the door to find Chris and Norman armed with more scotch and serious faces…
“We’ve heard… Oh nice tan…”
They pushed passed and headed for the sofa… I followed… “We, well I, haven’t heard anything…”
Norman cracked the seal on his bottle, offering it to Chris, “It’s true boss, me and Chris too… Glasses…?” “Kitchen…”
“Righto…”
“Waye aye that tosser Stevens has been spouting it all over. Even Seamus called and he can’t believe it either… Before I left, the rumour is the Home Sec’ has told the poncey little twat to wind his neck in…”
Confused, I said,
“Don’t we get a months’ notice or anything or is it just an envelope with your P45 in it…?”
“Don’t be daft yer dopey bugger, we haven’t been sacked they’ve got plans for us…”
“Oh really, and what are they like…?”
“Robin is calling it “Asset Retrieval”, for starters anyway… It’s been going on for nearly a decade. He’ll be here soon to give us the juicy bits…”
“Charlie, I thought you said he was pissed… Come to think of it, I thought you were pissed… Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on…?”
The doorbell rang again; I opened the door and walked away leaving Robin standing at an open doorway…
“Is this how you treat all your callers…May I come in…?”
“One… I don’t get callers…Two, you may as well, every other Oscar nominee is here you just complete this year’s list…”
“Iain, I like the towel. I even appreciate the gesture, but please, put some pants on and corral those pecks of yours will you…? The sight of you prancing around like a bronzed cabana boy is distasteful…”
“I do not prance…!”
After five minutes we all settled, I’d found a bottle of soda for the scotch plus a few cubes of ice for Robin,
“Right gentlemen… I know this is a little unorthodox but owing to a certain ex Station Chief’s behaviour, the PM felt a less formal atmosphere may help clear the air and allay any fears some may have regarding the rumours…”
“Apparently they aren’t rumours…” Meeting my gaze Robin replied,
“No Iain, you’re right, they’re not…” “So, Wright-Stevens has gone has he…?”
“He has. The PM felt a more experienced presence was required due to recent activities”
I looked across to Chris and smiled… “I bet he pranced…”
“Aye well, I bet he’s not prancin’ now, the nob… Justice, that’s what it is…”
“Ok gents, enough…”
Again Robin looked at us all before continuing,
“Compass has been a huge success, with a handful of field assets and a great deal of brainpower, you have successfully thwarted the most damaging bombing campaign these shores would have experienced since the second world war. There is a trip to the Palace planned for you all. The PM was most insistent. Compass is on the map, so to speak, high profile and the talk of everyone in Whitehall and our European counterparts. However what follows next has to be more clandestine. We must now utilise a more traditional modus operandi to work toward the removal of this Nergal character…”
He moved the ice cubes around in his glass thoughtfully before continuing…
“We must also seek to secure the welfare of previous assets in the field who have been compromised due to the fall of the Soviet Union and the reunification of Germany. These assets are stretched far and wide and are exposed to governments and powerful individuals who have been damaged by the INTEL they supplied to us… INTEL many are still supplying to us…”
He emptied his glass before continuing… I refilled it,
“This will be the new directive some of you will be tasked with…” “What’s your thinking Robin…?”
“I’ll be honest with you Iain; this was a difficult sell. Unfortunately the life of Compass will be very short-lived in its present form. Its relative obscurity is what gave it an advantage. My argument was that your minds would be wasted there now, hamstrung by politics and sound bites. You see, they don’t care whether we get results now; the corridors of Whitehall will live off your success hopefully until after the next election: a campaign tool about security and a poster for recruitment. On the home front we gave them everything they asked for and more including inter-agency cooperation. They now want a poster face to sell it…”
“Understood…Sarah…”
I said it as a statement rather than a question, “Why Sarah…?”
“Come on Chris, what wouldn’t you buy from her…?” “True… I bet she’ll look grand on Question Time…” “Why was it a hard sell…?”
“Because for one there is a distinct lack of overseas focus, with PIRA rearing its ugly head once more their view has become quite insular. Oh plus it will cost a great deal of money…”
“What’s the time frame for all of this…?”
“Norman, for you and Iain both, six months… For you Chris a little less…”
“Why am I a little less…?”
“You have field craft, you’re just a little rusty…”
I looked up, puzzled by his last remark…
“Eh…? Hang on, since when did I become a Field Officer…?”
“Since I recruited you for handbag jobs in ’89…”
I nodded in resignation…
“Right… And the six months…?”
“Training… A little of what they teach down in Taunton, a little of what they teach up in Hereford and a great deal of what they teach somewhere else… I think Bill Mortimer is also to teach you three some exciting stuff too…”
I gazed longingly at the beckoning kebab poised for certain destruction and my culinary satisfaction,
“I’d better not eat that takeaway then…”
Robin poked the dish with a look of distain…
“No best not…”
I sat back and looked at our Scottish friend...
“Charlie you’ve been quiet through all of this. What mission of mischief will you be on, then…?”
“I’m staying put… Number Two to Sarah…”
“I see…I take it you weren’t photogenic enough either then…?” “Aye… Seems that way laddie…”
I looked at Norman seriously,
“It’s your entire fault you know Norm,…” “Yes boss, eh…? Why is it my fault…?”
“Because it was you ogling p
retty girls at ferry ports which started it all…”
THE END
Twelve months have passed since the success of the new intelligence division Compass…
Now, with staff numbers greatly reduced, they face an even bigger threat…
In their new roles, Jordan, Ellison and Cornish have been tasked with retrieving their asset from the Yemen…
Trapped and isolated, they must discover who betrayed them and who wants them all dead…
Bearings: The Compass Trilogy Part One Page 42