by Conrad Jones
“You blocked our request for information at the airport because you didn’t want us to capture them. Why else would you block it and then release it to us when it’s useless?”
“The reason is classified.”
“The reason speaks for itself, Agent Spence.”
“I’m not sure there is any point in continuing this line of questioning, commander.” Agent Spence looked for a way out.
“You couldn’t nail Malik Shah, could you?”
“What are talking about now?”
“You couldn’t nail Malik Shah, but the Bernsteins could use methods that you couldn’t.”
Agent Spence shifted in his chair and crossed his arms. Alec was driving him into a corner and he wasn’t articulate or intelligent enough to fend off his questions. “I think we’ve accomplished all we can from this meeting.”
“You let them go, why would you do that?”
“What, that’s ridiculous!” Spence looked shocked by the remark, but Alec was onto the truth.
“Are you that stupid, or do you think that I am?”
“I’ve had enough of this, I’m calling it a day. If you need anything else, do it through the proper channels. We’re done.” Agent Spence tried to stand up, but Alec was too quick. He closed the gap between them, grabbed Spence by the tie and twisted it tightly. Spence tried to relieve the pressure on his throat, but Alec squeezed harder. The commander raised a hand to intervene, but he was gobsmacked by the accusations Alec was making, and the credibility that they had.
“I think the least you can do, Agent Spence, is listen to me for a few minutes. You see I’m just a bog-standard detective. I follow the evidence and try to put the bad guys in jail, no bullshit, no cover-ups. I have to play by the rules, and I want to know what happened.”
Agent Spence held up his hands in surrender and Alec relieved the pressure on his necktie. He brushed down the agent’s suit with the back of his hands, and straightened his tie sarcastically. Stepping back, he sat back down in his chair.
“I’m pissed off, Agent Spence, because I watched a good man get blown to bits by the lunatics that you let walk. Now I want to know why you would let them leave the country. Why?” Alec was beginning to put the pieces together himself, but that didn’t mean he was about to let the MI5 man off the hook.
“That’s classified.” Agent Spence looked jumpy. Alec had him rattled, but he wasn’t going to spill the beans.
“So you did let them walk?” Alec pressed, looking for a chink in the armour. “Did you know David Bernstein was here all along?”
There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes as Alec mentioned it. It was enough to cement Alec’s theory in his head. David Bernstein was an operative in one of the world’s most secret military units. The Israelis denied that the unit actually existed at all, and so would MI5 if they were asked. Alec could tell by his reaction that he knew David Bernstein was in the country.
“That’s classified.” Agent Spence wanted to make a bolt for the door, but he could tell Alec wasn’t going to let him walk out. He had to stand his ground though. “I really can’t say anymore on the subject of the Bernsteins, superintendent.”
“Fucking hell!” Alec looked at the commander and slapped his knees with his hands as if he’d had a eureka moment. “They knew he was here, and they knew he was Israeli Special Forces, and that’s why the Israeli military wouldn’t cooperate when we asked them where he was.”
“I can see where you are coming from, Alec, I’m not so sure there’s anything that we can do about it now,” The commander wobbled his jowls as he spoke. “If this is true then it will have been approved by the top brass.”
“Was David Bernstein sent here by the Israeli government?” Alec turned back to Spence and jabbed a finger towards his face. The agent looked away.
“I’m not saying anymore, superintendent.”
Alec sat forward in his chair. He was calm because he was amazed at what he’d discovered.
“Was Malik Shah selling weapons and munitions to Israel’s enemies?”
“Yes, that I can confirm.” Agent Spence looked relieved that he could answer a question at last. “He was supplying Hamas with reactivated weapons.”
“I thought Shah was a non-religious Muslim?” The commander looked to Alec for confirmation.
“He was,” Alec agreed. “This was all about money, not religion, wasn’t it?”
“In the Middle East there are a lot of incentives on offer to those who support the Arab struggle against the Jews.”
“Yes, I bet there are.” Alec laughed sarcastically. “Shah has business interests in Dubai, Saudi and Qatar, not bad for a drug dealer from Liverpool, eh?”
“That’s the way business works there, superintendent. Support is rewarded with money.”
“So Shah was targeted by the Israelis as a legitimate target, and David Bernstein is one of their operatives?”
“My God,” the commander whispered. “He was sent here.”
“He wasn’t sent here,” Spence said curtly.
“He wasn’t sent here officially, you mean?” Alec taunted him. “The Israelis knew where he was, but they didn’t try to stop him, it would kill two birds with one stone.”
“All I can tell you is that he wasn’t sent here.”
“Bullshit!” Alec sat forward and shook his head in disbelief. “Mossad highlighted Shah as a legitimate target on their list, and David Bernstein was made aware of the fact, and allowed to disappear for six months. In the meantime no one knows where he is, conveniently?”
“We were not aware of the Bernstein connection until you uncovered it, superintendent.”
“No, maybe not, but you knew there was an Israeli agent in the country stalking Shah, didn’t you?”
“Anyone supplying Hamas is an enemy of the Israeli state, and so they should be.”
“If only we could all just assassinate our enemies, Agent Spence,” the commander chipped in. He was shocked but not surprised.
“I’ll bet David Bernstein jumped at the chance to take Shah out of the game, and you lot at MI5 jumped at the chance of letting them do it as well. You couldn’t do it yourself so you let a foreign government do it for you, David Bernstein happened to have a history with Shah, and his brother was only too willing to go along with it. He’d planned revenge for decades. How neat for you. All you had to do was cover their escape from the country when it was done… Or am I wrong?”
“We didn’t know about his brother, I can assure you of that. We didn’t expect bombs, and we weren’t sure it was them when they started.” The agent coughed nervously. “I can’t comment anymore.”
“You really don’t need to, Agent Spence. Tell me, were any of your agents killed investigating Shah or the Bernsteins?”
“Yes.”
“Then you and your superiors are disrespecting every one of them and their families. You let killers off the leash to kill one of your most elusive targets, and then you let them escape.”
“I think we’re going around in circles, superintendent.”
“Where did you let them go to, Agent Spence, are they all in Israel now?”
“I’m leaving, commander, and if there’s any repeat of your behaviour earlier, then I will press charges, is that clear?”
“Perfectly. Leave, because I won’t be responsible for what happens if you stay,” the commander snarled. “I will be speaking to the director later today, and you can tell him from me that we will be raising this case with the home secretary.”
“Fine, do that. He’s very familiar with the case, if you know what I mean.” Spence stood up and winked at Alec, smoothed his suit and left in silence.
Alec felt enlightened, but numb. Either the Intelligence Services worked with the Israelis or they knew David Bernstein was here and chose to ignore it, despite his history with Shah. There were times when the politics involved in his job made him physically sick. The door closed loudly as the agent slammed it behind him.
“What are we supposed to do with that, commander?”
“Absolutely nothing, Alec. There’s nothing that we can do.”
“What do I tell my team?” Alec shrugged. “We were shafted by our own people, and the whole fucking investigation was a smoke and mirrors operation by the Israeli Secret Service?”
“Whatever you decide to tell them Alec, they’ll believe you, and the next bad guy that you investigate will get their undivided attention. Put this one to bed, you couldn’t have done any more than you did.”
“I’m not so sure, commander.” Alec felt drained. Was it time to pack it all in? “This time around, I am just not so sure.”
Chapter Sixty-Three
Checkmate
Richard Bernstein was sweating profusely in the front seat of a battered Mercedes as it hurtled through the Moroccan desert towards the thirteenth-century city of Touradant. The compacted sand road was more than a match for the aged suspension of the rusty old taxi, and he was bouncing about like he was riding a space-hopper in a giant salt pot. His shirt was sticking to his back, and there were dark patches spreading beneath his arms. All four windows were down but it had no effect on the soaring temperature in the ancient vehicle.
“How much further is it?” Richard asked, wiping sweat from his brow. He was hungry. The breakfast at the hotel in Agadir was paltry; bread rolls and bland cheese were not his idea of a good start to the day. There was no bacon to be had in this godforsaken country.
“See, there.” The driver pointed to the east with enthusiasm. His toothless smile and sundried skin made him look a hundred years old. Richard was immediately sorry that he’d asked the question as the driver’s body odour wafted over to him when he raised his arms. He smelled and looked like he hadn’t bathed for decades. “Ten minutes!”
David Bernstein was asleep in the back seat, as was Nick. They had been up until the early hours of the morning drinking local brand whisky, and it had caught up with them now. The flight from Liverpool to Agadir was under three hours but it felt much longer. The anticipation of armed police greeting them at the gate was gut-wrenching. It had been a huge relief when they breezed past customs and walked out of the airport unhindered. David had said they wouldn’t be stopped, but it was still a worry. Their documentation was forged but they were top of the range quality and impossible to spot. They stayed two nights at the beach resort before heading off to Marrakesh via Touradant. David had contacts in Morocco, and they’d arranged a sea passage for them across the Mediterranean to Israel. They had to meet their contact the following day in Marrakesh, and decided to see some of the country on the way there. Richard couldn’t be bothered. It was a shithole of a place, sand and more sand and no bacon.
David woke up when the taxi hit a pothole at thirty miles an hour. He was jolted violently and his head hit the window frame. The desert wind blew in his face, which would have been pleasant if it didn’t carry the scent of the driver with it. He opened his eyes and wiped the crusty sleep from the corners. They were approaching the walled city, and red-ochre fortified ramparts stretched into the distance as far as he could see. The size of the fortifications was testament to the skill of the thirteenth-century Muslim engineers. They drove by groups of local women, all dressed in blue robes with matching headscarves and veils. The men they saw held wooden staffs, which they used to guide their goats or whip their donkeys. Their leathery faces were full of loathing and suspicion for foreign visitors that earned more money in a day than they did in five years. As they approached the huge gates the smells and sounds of the city drifted into the car.
It was Friday, and the city was packed with locals heading to Friday prayers. The narrow streets were awash with colours, as traders showed their produce to the faithful as they passed by to their mosques. Fruit and vegetables of every shape and colour were on sale, and the smell of rotting meat hung heavily in the air as the butchers plied their trade too. The imams could be heard wailing from the minarets, calling the faithful to prayer. The smell of spices was powerful as they drove near to the souk, and shoppers flooded out of the exits as prayer time neared. David watched the crowds with his head resting on the backs eat. His head was tilted so that the breeze would blow into his face and cool him. He couldn’t care less about the sightseeing, he just needed to contact his colleague here, pick up documents and find somewhere that they could drink. The previous months had been hard work, mentally and physically, but they’d been worth every second. Shah and his nest of rats were annihilated and they were nearly a million pounds richer. He would call it compensation for his loss. His superiors would be pleased that Malik Shah was no longer in business, but another arms dealer would take his place immediately. The Israelis would also have a place for Richard. He was a very talented man in many ways. Israel is nothing but an arid, salt encrusted desert. The only water supply was the River Jordan, and all the farming and agriculture were created by extensive manmade projects. Richard’s fertiliser expertise would be worth millions there, as would his talent for making explosive devices. Unfortunately, David’s superiors were not happy about the way he had taken Shah out of circulation. The bombing campaign attracted far too much attention, and the world’s media were still focusing on it. It was only a matter of time before the blame was laid at Israel’s door, and an international scandal was on the cards, but David didn’t care. He would face the music when the time came.
The taxi slowed to walking pace as the crowd thickened, and the driver honked the horn constantly to no avail. Locals called abuse and spat at the car as it crawled alongside them. David recognised a barbershop where he’d been shaven once before, it was a block away from the hotel they were heading to. A trader proffered his selection of fruits through the window and David waved him away. The wrinkled old man fired a string of abuse at him for his troubles.
“Turn down here.” David tapped the driver on the shoulder. He wanted to get out of the crowds. The road would take them the back way to the hotel. “Down there!”
The driver nodded and gave him a gummy smile in the mirror.
“This way, only five minute! Five minute!” He grinned as he repeated himself.
“Turn here, it’s quicker, you bloody idiot,” David leaned forward and pointed to the barbershop. “Here. by the barbershop.”
“Barbershop?” the driver grinned again. “You want shave?”
“No, I don’t want a shave, turn this way!”
“I know best barbershop, good price for you, Asda price for you!” The driver carried on pushing his way through the crowd and David gave up giving directions. They would be there soon enough. The crowd began to thin out as they turned off the main street to their respective places of worship, and the hotel was in sight.
“I turn, I turn.” The driver drove by the hotel entrance and he eyed David in the mirror. David was immediately suspicious.
“Stop the car!” He leaned forward and grabbed the driver’s seat.
“I turn around, okay boss man!” He grinned like an idiot again, but he looked nervous and his eyes darted all over. He slowed and turned the wheel full lock. The turning circle was too tight for the taxi to make it in one movement, and the gears crunched painfully as he engaged reverse. “I turn around.”
David relaxed a little as he attempted a three-point turn in the narrow street. A haggard face appeared at his window, and a wooden board filled with melon slices was thrust towards him. He jumped. “Fuck off!” he shouted at the old woman.
“I’m starving.” Richard turned around. “How much are they?” He shouted to the woman but she was gone, only to be replaced by another blue clad figure.
David Bernstein was about to tell her to go forth and multiply when the taxi driver pulled on the handbrake, opened his door and bolted. The blue robes parted for a second and he briefly caught sight of an Israeli-manufactured suppressed Uzi nine-millimetre machinegun. The first rounds ripped David’s jugular and larynx out of his throat, and arterial blood spatter soaked the interior of the tax
i. Nick didn’t get time to wake up as four rounds smashed his thickened brow bone and sprayed his brains all over the back window. Richard Bernstein opened the passenger door and tried to get out, but he was too fat and awkward to do it quickly. Not for the first time in his life, he wet his pants in fear as the assassin reloaded. His troubled life flashed before him as they emptied the second clip into his bloated body, and he lay twitching, half in and half out of the taxi. His blood soaked into the Moroccan dust. A Nissan truck pulled up and the assassin jumped into the back of it while two men emptied the boot of the taxi. A gallon of four-star petrol was splashed around the Bernstein brothers and the taxi became a raging inferno as the Mossad team sped away. The last remaining evidence of the embarrassing events in the United Kingdom was erased from memory, and the Israeli government were off the hook. The Bernstein family were officially extinct.
Chapter Sixty-Four
The Major Investigation Team
Alec Ramsay folded his newspaper in half so that he could read it without it falling into his breakfast. He was enjoying a rare Sunday morning off work for a change. His organic sausages tasted like cardboard, and apparently, there was no such thing as organic black pudding.
“Are you sure black pudding is bad for me?” he moaned as he slotted another piece of tasteless banger into his mouth. He slurped his tea to wash it down.
“Positive, Alec, it’s disgusting, don’t you dare ask for that.” Gail raised her eyebrows and gave him that look, the look that could turn the milk to cheese in an instant.
“What about free range black pudding, now that can’t be bad for me can it?”
“Shut up and eat your sausage.”
“I’m not sure this can be called a sausage, it doesn’t taste of meat and it’s a little bland.”
“There is no meat in it.”
“What?”
“It’s vegetable and soya. Organic vegetables, of course.”