by Jim Eldridge
‘I thought a treaty like that already existed,’ said Two Moons.
‘To an extent,’ agreed Nelson. ‘But only a few countries have signed up to it. This one is going to be signed by all the members of the G20, including the President of the European Union.’
‘So, everyone’s on-board to stop terrorists hiding across borders,’ Two Moons said in approval. ‘A good thing. But I still don’t see where we come in.’
‘Both MI6 and the CIA have picked up intel that there’s to be an assassination attempt during the conference, before the treaty can be signed.’
‘Who’s the target?’ asked Mitch.
‘The British prime minister,’ said Nelson.
The five soldiers sat up, suddenly on high alert.
‘Why him?’ demanded Gaz.
‘Because he’s the one who’s been pushing for this particular treaty to be signed,’ said Nelson. ‘The people giving the orders must hope that getting rid of him will kill off the treaty, and send a message to all the other world leaders.’
Benny shook his head. ‘I can see why this is an emergency all right, but I still don’t see what this has to do with us,’ he said.
‘We’ve been given the job of finding the assassin and stopping him,’ said Nelson.
The five soldiers exchanged puzzled looks.
‘Isn’t that rather unusual?’ asked Tug. ‘Normally stuff like this is a job for the spooks at MI5 or MI6.’
‘Usually it would be,’ agreed Nelson. ‘But this isn’t just any assassin.’
A new image appeared on the screen: a head-and-shoulders photo of a young man with a cocky grin on his face. A shocked gasp from Two Moons made Mitch look round.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘It’s Jimmy,’ said Two Moons, obviously stunned.
‘Jimmy?’
‘Jimmy Deacon,’ said Gaz quietly. ‘He’s our buddy.’
‘He was never my buddy,’ growled Benny.
‘He was part of the unit,’ snapped back Two Moons. ‘He was one of us.’
‘Was,’ emphasised Benny. ‘Now it seems he’s a renegade killer.’
‘Let’s leave all that till later and get back to the immediate problem,’ said Nelson sharply, bringing them to order.
They turned their attention back to the screen. The head and shoulders shot had been replaced by more pictures of the same man in a variety of disguises. In some, he was immediately recognisable as the same young soldier. In others his hair had changed: sometimes long, sometimes dark, then blond, and in one he was completely bald. The clothes he wore varied, too: tribal costumes, smart business suits, a construction worker’s outfit. In some he wore glasses, in others not. Sometimes he had a beard or moustache. In a few his cheeks had been stuffed out to make his face fatter.
‘This guy’s a chameleon,’ muttered Mitch.
‘That was always his thing,’ Gaz said, nodding. ‘He loved to use the element of surprise. He could get almost anywhere by changing his appearance.’
‘Which is the problem we have,’ said Nelson. ‘The spooks admit they don’t know where or how he’ll strike, or what he’s going to look like. The only people who stand a chance are those who’ve worked with him, which is all of us in this room with the exception of Mitch.’
Two Moons shook his head. ‘Just because we worked with him don’t mean we’ll spot him,’ he said. ‘Like Gaz says, Jimmy was a real master of camouflage. He could walk in anywhere, impossible to spot until it was too late. The guy was a genius.’ Two Moons’ expression hardened. ‘He was also our friend. I don’t like this job.’
‘It’s not up to us to choose whether we like it or not,’ said Nelson. ‘The intel tells us that Jimmy’s going to try to assassinate the British prime minister during this conference and we’re the only ones who have a chance of spotting him and stopping him.’
‘Maybe the spooks are wrong?’ suggested Gaz. ‘They’ve been wrong before.’
‘Yes, we know spooks can make mistakes,’ Nelson agreed. ‘But this seems pretty concrete. It’s not just coming from MI6, it’s CIA, plus the French and the Germans. It seems that Jimmy’s been working renegade for some time, carrying out hits. It’s just been lucky for us he hasn’t strayed into our territory so far. Now he has, and we’ve got to stop him.’ Nelson checked his watch. ‘We’ve got a briefing at Spook Central in an hour. They’re gonna fill us in on everything they’ve got on Jimmy.’ He grinned. ‘Believe me, you guys are getting a real privilege here. You’ve all been given special clearance, but you’ve got to sign these.’ He handed out a sheet of paper to each member of the unit.
‘What is this?’ asked Two Moons, looking at it suspiciously.
‘Official Secrets Act,’ explained Nelson. ‘If you tell anyone else what you see today, you get shot for treason.’
‘I ain’t a Brit,’ muttered Two Moons. ‘They can’t shoot me for treason.’
‘Yes, they can,’ said Nelson. ‘If you look closely at the small print, this is a joint UK-US operation.’ He grinned again. ‘So the Brits shoot their boys, we Yanks shoot you.’
Two Moons shrugged. ‘Sounds fair, I guess,’ he said. He held out his hand. ‘Anyone got a pen?’
3
Once inside MI6 HQ, the men of Delta Unit went through a series of security procedures including retinal scans to verify their individual IDs. Finally they made it to the inner hub where the action took place. They’d been escorted all the way by two men dressed in smart suits. One of them, who introduced himself as Gerald, chatted to the squad as he led them along the corridors, deep inside the building. The other man walked silently just a few paces behind them, keeping a close eye on the unit.
Many of the rooms had glass walls so the soldiers could see inside as they passed. Every room was filled with people at computer terminals, many of them wearing headsets. The walls were adorned with digital maps showing trouble hotspots, red lights flashing on and off highlighting locations.
They’re listening in on everyone, thought Mitch. But they still need us to find this man – shows just how good Jimmy Deacon must be.
‘Here we are,’ said Gerald, pushing open a glass door and ushering them into a room smaller than the ones they’d passed. It looked like a conference room: a long table was set out in the middle, with chairs around it, and a screen on the wall at one end set up for a PowerPoint display. ‘Please, take your seats.’
The six soldiers sat down. Gerald went to the laptop at the far end of the table. His silent companion took his place by the door. Mitch noticed the telltale bulge just by the man’s arm where he kept his gun.
Mitch looked around the room. Cameras were set in the walls and ceiling, trained on them from every angle. There’ll be microphones as well, he thought, and they’ll be picking up every word we say. And quite likely a lip-reader somewhere outside, watching the screens, to pick up any comments that don’t reach the mikes.
He looked round at the rest of Delta Unit. Like him, they’d settled down on to the chairs and were looking at the screen, taking it all in, not fazed by their surroundings. It was just another mission, but security was tighter than usual. In this world of Secret Intelligence they were outsiders. Suspects to be watched closely.
Gerald pressed a key on the laptop, and a familiar picture appeared on the screen.
‘James Deacon,’ announced Gerald. ‘Your former colleague in Delta Unit, invalided out of the service 18 months ago after suffering severe wounds while on operation with you.’
‘He got blown up working for his country,’ said Two Moons, a note of defensiveness in his voice. ‘He’s on our side.’
Gerald shook his head. ‘He was on our side,’ he said smoothly. ‘Since he recovered from his wounds, he’s been acting as an independent operative.’ The photo of Deacon vanished and was replaced by photos of six men, all middle-aged or elderly. A number was on each picture. ‘These six have been assassinated by Deacon in the last twelve months. Number one was a British industrialist based in
the Bahamas. Fingers in many pies, lots of them suspicious. Deacon was hired by a rival gang to take him out.
‘Number two is the former president of a small African state. Officially he died from natural causes. But we have evidence to suggest that Deacon assassinated him using a lethal dose of a narcotic.’
‘How did he get close enough to manage that?’ asked Tug. ‘Most of these politicians are paranoid about letting anyone near them except their very closest cronies.’
‘Exactly,’ said Gerald. ‘That’s why we’re showing you these – so you can see just how good Deacon is.’
The pictures of the six men vanished from the screen.
‘There’s no need for me to go into the rest of the cases,’ said the spy. ‘It’s enough for you to know that these six men are dead, all at Deacon’s hands, despite having the most incredible protection and security around them.’
‘How is one man able to do all this on his own?’ asked Benny.
‘He doesn’t,’ said Gerald.
Another series of shots appeared on the screen. Even without the uniforms Mitch would have been able to tell what these men did for a living. Special Forces soldiers. There was something in their faces: Hard men, trained to kill. Trained to succeed in any circumstances. From the insignia on the collars of their uniforms it was clear that they came from a variety of nations.
‘Deacon hires other former Special Forces soldiers as mercenaries for his operations,’ said Gerald. ‘It seems he puts together a hand-picked team for every operation he leads.’
‘How many on each team?’ asked Benny.
‘That depends on the target,’ answered Gerald. ‘From what we can gather, sometimes it’s four, sometimes six. If it’s a particularly hard target, he has been known to use up to eight, but never more than that.’
Mitch nodded. The bigger the team, the more difficult it was to keep control.
‘Why haven’t you been able to stop him so far?’ asked Nelson. ‘In cases like this, there has to be a money trail. Follow the money, you find Deacon.’
Again, the Intelligence officer shook his head. ‘He’s too clever for that. All payments are in cash, so there’s no money trail. We usually get a rough idea of where the original payment comes from, but only after the event, when things fall into place.’
‘But not in this case?’ asked Mitch.
‘But not in this case, Mr Mitchell,’ agreed Gerald. ‘For once, we are ahead of the game. We have intelligence that the money for this operation is being paid from South America. That doesn’t necessarily mean the people behind it are South American, of course – it might just be a convenient place to move money from. But we also received a tip-off on where this money was going.’
‘A tip-off from who?’ asked Mitch. Even as he asked the question, he knew what the answer would be.
‘Need to know, Mitch,’ said Nelson, beating Gerald to it.
‘Yeah, but in this case I think we do need to know,’ persisted Mitch. ‘For all we know, this story is a fake and your informant is winding you up in exchange for some ready cash.’
Gerald shook his head. ‘I appreciate your comments, Mr Mitchell, but we are pretty confident about the intelligence we’ve received.’ He hesitated, then said: ‘Without going into details, we have an agent operating inside the organisation in South America, whose job has been to keep an eye on money transactions. Believe me, we can trust this information.’
‘So, you’re suggesting Deacon’s assembled a team for this operation?’ asked Benny.
Gerald nodded.
‘Who are they?’ asked Tug.
Gerald gave a sigh. ‘I’m afraid we don’t have that information yet,’ he admitted. ‘But we have promises of information from our counterparts in Europe and elsewhere; particularly France and South Africa. We believe they have some very strong leads and we hope to have information from them shortly. As soon as we do, you’ll know.’
4
After the session at Spook Central, the men of Delta Unit went their separate ways. Tug had arranged to meet his parents, Lord and Lady Tait, at their town house in Kensington; Nelson and Benny both had private business of their own. Mitch, Two Moons and Gaz watched them as they walked off.
‘I betcha Benny’s private business involves a girlfriend,’ commented Two Moons.
‘A girlfriend?’ echoed Gaz.
‘I happen to know that Benny has a girlfriend called Sally who lives in Battersea, and he goes to see her whenever he’s in London,’ Two Moons said.
‘I thought he had a girlfriend in Texas.’ Mitch frowned.
‘He does!’ confirmed Two Moons. ‘And if they ever meet up, boy is he gonna be in trouble.’
‘What about the colonel?’ asked Gaz. ‘He got a girlfriend, too?’
‘I never ask questions about his private life,’ said Two Moons.
‘You know about Benny’s though,’ pointed out Gaz.
‘That’s different,’ said Two Moons. ‘Benny himself told me in confidence.’
‘And now you’ve told us,’ said Mitch.
‘Which proves one thing to you two guys,’ said Two Moons solemnly. ‘You should never tell me anything you want to keep a secret.’
Mitch laughed. ‘You’re supposed to be a comrade! Comrades look out for one another, whatever the situation!’
‘Yeah,’ said Two Moons, ‘that’s what comrades do.’ His tone had suddenly altered. The humour was gone and he looked serious.
Mitch looked at Gaz, and saw that he also had a concerned look on his face.
‘What’s the matter?’ Mitch asked.
Two Moons and Gaz both looked like they were about to speak, then they hesitated, as if they weren’t quite sure how to broach the subject. It was Two Moons who finally spoke.
‘You doin’ anything right now, Mitch?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Mitch.
‘Then you fancy having a cup of coffee with me and Gaz?’
‘Sure,’ nodded Mitch. ‘Where?’
‘Somewhere we can talk in private without being overheard,’ said Two Moons. ‘I was thinking of Gaz’s place.’
‘Why mine?’ demanded Gaz.
‘Because I ain’t got me a proper place in this country,’ said Two Moons. ‘Just a poky little bedsit, and my room at the barracks. At your place the three of us could sit and talk without feeling like sardines in a tin.’
Mitch studied his surroundings as the three soldiers sat in Gaz’s living room. No matter how neat and careful Gaz was about his weapons and his equipment, he was very different when he was at home. Clothes had been abandoned on the backs of chairs. There was an empty pizza box poking out from under the settee. A pile of washing filled the small table. It reminded Mitch of his own bedroom as a teenager.
Two Moons ignored the mess, he was too intent on venting his feelings to Mitch.
‘The truth is, Mitch, me and Gaz don’t feel right about this business with Jimmy Deacon,’ said Two Moons.
‘He was our pal,’ added Gaz. ‘And now we’re being asked to kill him.’
‘That happens in war,’ said Mitch. ‘Friends and family can end up on opposite sides.’
‘This isn’t just a case of being on opposite sides,’ insisted Two Moons. ‘You saw those photos that spook guy, Gerald, showed us of the guys Jimmy hit: A gangster. Some dictator. Hell, those are the guys we take out all the time! That’s what we’re supposed to do!’
‘But we don’t do it for money,’ pointed out Mitch.
‘We get paid,’ countered Two Moons.
Mitch laughed. ‘There’s a bit of a difference between what we get paid as soldiers, and what Jimmy’s picking up for hits like these,’ he said. ‘And this one’s the British prime minister. You saying he’s a fair target?’
Two Moons shook his head. ‘No, of course not,’ he said. ‘I’m just wondering if they got it right. OK, Jimmy hit these other guys, the crooks. But just because he did that it doesn’t mean he’s the one behind this.’
‘You work with a guy for long enough and you get to know him,’ continued Gaz, nodding in agreement. ‘Jimmy wasn’t that kind of bloke. Headstrong, a bit wild, but nothing dangerous. Not to us, anyway.’
‘And he saved our lives,’ said Two Moons. ‘Me and Gaz’s.’
Mitch looked at him, curious.
‘It was in South America,’ said Gaz. ‘We were on a mission, trying to stop these rebels killing civilians and taking hostages.’ He grimaced at the memory. ‘Me and Two Moons got separated from the rest of the unit, and were caught by about half a dozen of the rebels. They dragged us to this clearing in the jungle and made us kneel down, hands on our heads.’
Two Moons shook his head at the memory. ‘They were all armed to the teeth,’ he said. ‘Two of them had automatic rifles pointed straight at us. One touch on those triggers and we’d have been blown to bits. They were just about to pump us full of bullets when suddenly Jimmy bursts out of the jungle and Pop! Pop! takes out the two guys who are about to shoot us and then fires a burst at the others. All six of them dead within seconds.’ Two Moons shook his head. ‘Guy saves your life like that, it makes you look at him in a different way, know what I mean. There’s a bond between you.’
Mitch nodded. He knew what Two Moons meant. But Two Moons wasn’t finished yet.
‘We’re being asked to hunt down a guy who saved our lives and kill him, based on some story they’ve picked up.’
‘The story’s from more than one source,’ said Mitch.
‘That’s what they said about the weapons of mass destruction in Iraq,’ said Two Moons. ‘Turns out all the sources picked it up from the same place.’
Gaz got up. ‘I’m making myself another coffee,’ he said. ‘You guys want some?’
Mitch and Two Moons didn’t have time to answer. There was a sudden explosion, and Gaz’s bedroom door hurtled towards them in a ball of flame.
5
The three soldiers instinctively dropped to the floor, the flying door missing them by inches before it crashed into the living room window. As shards of glass rained down on them, Gaz acted swiftly. He snatched up a fire extinguisher and sprayed foam on the burning door before the flames could catch hold of the rest of the flat.