Spring Showers Box-set

by Avell Kro

  He smiled apologetically, just one staffer sharing sympathies with his peers. Archer didn’t buy it, but he was impressed with the man’s political nous.

  ‘So, you obviously know all his background already; we did manage to share that much.’ Matthew

  chuckled at his own joke, and Tracy gave a slight smile. ‘He’s been in New Zealand for the last

  couple of months on a Visitor Visa. Interestingly, he was turned away by Australia.’

  ‘That open borders policy just works a treat for us,’ Archer remarked drily, and Matthew looked at

  him for a moment.

  Archer got the feeling he’d spoken out of turn and felt his cheeks flush. He glanced at Tracy and

  saw her gaze shift as his eyes crossed her face.

  Matthew continued.

  ‘We’ve established links between him and a number of groups of interest to us, including the

  Taliban, ETA in Spain, animal activists here in the UK, rebel groups in Africa, anti-abortionists in

  the States. .the list goes on. We have confirmed that he has handled money for all these groups,

  washing it through various financial institutions, making investments for them, and ultimately

  making them more money and giving them a clean product at the end of it all. This appears to

  have been on behalf of the family business.’ He turned slightly towards Tracy. ‘Do you want to

  cover our Irish friend?’

  She nodded and leaned forward in her seat, taking the lead. ‘A person of interest to us is a former

  leader in the Provisional Irish Republican Army, Patrick Boyle. Currently living in Galway, in the

  Republic. He got his hands dirty growing up in Belfast during the eighties; he was part of a cell that

  we know for certain killed four police officers and eleven British soldiers in a series of attacks.’ She

  looked at Archer directly to make sure he was listening. ‘The four coppers were each shot dead

  inside their homes, in front of family members. Point blank.’

  She had his attention. ‘Three of the soldiers were killed in a pub in the city centre. The killer

  walked straight up to them and shot them point blank in the head. A fourth soldier in their group

  was kidnapped and held for three days. They found him on a patch of wasteland, face down. Dead.

  He’d been knee-capped with a drill in both knees. He was covered in burns. He had every single

  finger dislocated and four teeth ripped out.’

  She paused unnecessarily for affect.

  ‘It was initially thought that he’d been tortured for information, but this was discounted due to the

  fact that he was just a squaddie, and therefore would have very limited knowledge of use to the

  Provos.’

  ‘It was practice.’ Matthew took over again and Tracy hesitated, as if surprised by his interruption.

  When he continued, she took the hint and sat back again. ‘I firmly believe that that poor kid-he

  was 19-was just a practice doll for a torturer who was learning his trade. He had nothing to give

  them but that wasn’t the point. He died in excruciating pain. The post-mortem showed the cause

  of death as heart failure. This was a 19-year old soldier, fighting fit, in the prime of his life.’

  Matthew shook his head grimly. ‘His heart gave out from fear and the pain inflicted on him. We confirmed Patrick Boyle as the man responsible, and he was eventually imprisoned at the Maze.

  After the Good Friday Agreement, he was released.’

  His eyes shifted to Archer and he looked at him mirthlessly. ‘And you think your open borders

  cause you trouble Down Under.’

  Archer held his gaze evenly, deciding he didn’t like this man, not a bit. His instinct was to react, and

  he had to remind himself that he was operating in a new environment now. ‘So what’s his link to

  Yassar then?’ he asked, breaking the moment.

  ‘Boyle moved on from being a foot soldier to management,’ replied Matthew. ‘He’s an educated

  man and has an obvious knack for financial matters. Once he was released from prison he put

  himself out on the market, basically operating as an investment adviser for other terrorists. You

  must remember, these guys have not gone away. They just operate a bit differently now, and at

  their core, they’re basically just criminals. They make money from the whole spectrum of criminal

  offending and they need to launder it. That’s where men like Boyle and Yassar come in.’

  Matthew made a steeple of his fingers, elbows on the table. Archer noticed he still hadn’t referred

  to whatever was in his folder.

  ‘They have done business both together and for the same groups. They are intimately connected

  in a financial sense, and we know for certain that both have met with senior lieutenants to Bin

  Laden in recent years.’

  Archer sipped his water and listened intently. He was hoping the history lesson would end soon

  and they’d get to the point.

  ‘We have intelligence that these two have formed a close bond and, if it’s possible for men like this,

  become friends. Further to that, we have intelligence that they have recently hijacked a large arms

  deal from Yassar’s family. Yassar now has a price on his head, courtesy of his own father. Further

  to that, Boyle himself has a substantial amount of money stashed away somewhere. A fall back, if

  you like.’ Matthew’s eyes became shrewd now. ‘We’re talking circa thirty two million American.’

  Archer’s hand paused with the glass halfway to his lips.

  ‘Cash,’ Matthew added.

  The room was silent as the information sank in.

  ‘Wow,’ Archer finally said.

  ‘Wow is right,’ Tracy smiled, and was passed the baton again with a nod from her colleague. ‘It’s

  the result of some canny investments and gambles by Boyle and Yassar.’ She smiled again. ‘And Her

  Majesty’s Government would like to get their hands on it.’

  Matthew smiled conspiratorially across the table. ‘Of course, that is a secondary issue for us. Our

  Saudi friend is our main concern. And that’s where you chaps come in. You see, the key is to

  getting our hands on either of these two men. I have no doubt that one of them will talk, given the right circumstances.’ He gave a conspiratorial look. ‘If you know what I mean.’

  ‘Got a rough idea,’ Archer murmured.

  ‘Obviously British agents can’t just bowl up to Boyle’s little cottage in Galway and knock on the door

  and grab him. Those days are long gone. So when we thought our col eagues Down Under had

  captured Yassar and had him safely under lock and key, we were very happy campers indeed.’

  Archer saw where this was going now. ‘And since he escaped under our jurisdiction,’ he said, ‘it’s

  our responsibility to get him back.’

  Matthew smiled indulgently. ‘Basically, yes. In the interests of our relationship of mutual trust and

  co-operation, this is rather important.’

  Archer let that sit silently. The jibe was obvious and he knew the Englishman expected him to

  retort, but he refused to give him the satisfaction.

  ‘I believe that Boyle is the most likely to know where Yassar is. If we get him, we can get Yassar.

  Once we get what we want from him, he’ll be straight off to another jurisdiction.’

  Archer nodded slowly. ‘So I’m off to Ireland then,’ he said, but Matthew shook his head.

  ‘No,’ he replied, ‘you’re off to Cornwall.’

  21

  Moore was waiting in the foyer for him when Tracy escorted Archer down.

  They shook hands again and T
racy relieved him of his visitor’s pass before disappearing back into

  the bowels of Legoland.

  The two men walked back across the bridge while Archer grilled his companion about the two

  spooks he’d just met.

  ‘I’ve met Tracy before,’ Moore told him, ‘she’s a good girl. I’ve had a couple of dealings with her and

  she seems sound. I don’t know Matthew, I know Tracy’s boss is a guy called Matthew Livingstone

  so I’m guessing that’s him.’

  ‘What’s his background?’

  Archer had his hands tucked into his coat pockets and his breath was clouding in the morning chill.

  Jet-lag was starting to pull at him and he could do with a coffee.

  ‘Don’t know really. I heard he was previously over the river for a long time, before moving to Six.’

  He shrugged his big shoulders. ‘Aside from that, they don’t tend to chuck their CVs around, you

  know?’

  Archer grunted. ‘And the girl?’

  ‘Tracy Spencer,’ Moore replied readily, and grinned at Archer’s quizzical look. ‘Yeah, she reckons

  her Dad had a sense of humour. Ex-Army is all I really know about her, we got talking about that

  one day, but she didn’t say too much.’

  They walked in silence for a few moments. Archer debated about sharing more information with

  his former comrade in arms and decided against it for now. He had a lot to think about but wanted

  to keep it to himself. They reached the northern side of the river, and Moore pulled up short,

  stepping to the side of the footpath.

  ‘I’ve got another meeting to go to,’ he explained, casting a wary eye about him, ‘you can make your

  own way back from here?’

  Archer nodded.

  ‘Oh, before I forget.’ Moore took a small key from his pocket and passed it over. ‘Your gear arrived.

  I’l email you the location. Locker number’s on the key.’

  ‘Ta.’ Archer pocketed the key.

  ‘I think I’ll make an enquiry about these Yanks, but if I’m free later I’ll give you a bell and we’ll

  meet up for dinner,’ Moore continued, and grinned. ‘Watch your back mate, you’re playing with the

  big boys now.’

  He headed away down a side street towards Millbank, and Archer glanced around him, feeling

  suddenly self-conscious. If he was honest with himself he’d felt out of his comfort zone with the

  spooks. He was getting reminded repeatedly that he was in a new world, and he wasn’t sure yet

  that he liked it.

  Tracy Spencer interested him though, he had to admit, and he looked forward to meeting her later.

  He waved down a cab and got dropped near the far end of Oxford Street then walked the famous

  shopping street back towards his hotel, taking his time and breathing in the city life around him. It

  was a melting pot of cultures and flavours, and in the space of a block he heard three different

  European languages being spoken by passing pedestrians.

  Archer suddenly realised he was hungry, and checked his watch. 1115am. He found a Pret a

  Manger and sat in the window with a long black and a blueberry muffin, warming himself and

  feeling re-invigorated as the caffeine hit his bloodstream.

  As he sat he began to formulate a plan in his head. Patrick Boyle had been seeing a woman in

  Cornwall named Ruth, who he had met when she was a teenage street worker in Belfast. She had

  moved to England several years ago and they had reconnected online. The relationship built to the

  point that he came over once a month for an overnight stay. His paranoia of the security services

  was still high, and he never stayed longer than twenty four hours.

  His next visit was due in two days time.

  The spooks knew this because prostitutes are creatures of habit. Ruth was still on the game and

  with that came the drugs scene. She had managed to beat a crack habit but had also become an

  informer for a local copper. Her information had proved credible over the years and she had

  eventually dropped her lover in it.

  Despite having moved on from his terrorist activities, Boyle had an unhealthy fascination with

  guns. The timing of his monthly visits to Cornwall had been linked to the flood of firearms onto the

  black market, and it was believed he had access to stores previously held by the Provos. Assault

  rifles, sub machine guns and pistols were all readily available from dealers in the south-west.

  This information had been elevated to the security services, and due to the international aspect of

  it MI6-specifically Tracy-had ended up handling the informer.

  The plan was to nab Boyle while he was at his mistress’ house, hopefully still in possession of a

  shipment of weapons, giving them leverage to get at Yassar. They had no idea what weapons he

  may have but they knew he travelled alone, flying his private plane under the radar to a remote

  field. He drove to his dealers to make the transactions before heading to Ruth’s place.

  Archer was tasked with intercepting Boyle safely. Matthew had made it clear there would be no

  tactical support from either the police or military. This was strictly need-to-know. He would,

  however, have the services of Tracy. Once he had a basic plan in his head, Archer left the cafe and

  went to a nearby stationer’s, where he bought a map book and pens. Electronic gizmos were all

  well and good but Archer had a healthy appreciation for the old school.

  22

  Striding along the footpath, he turned into the street his hotel was on and immediately sensed

  trouble. A silver BMW SUV was at the kerb outside his hotel and he could see a man behind the

  wheel and exhaust fumes pumping from the tail pipe.

  As he stepped into a doorway to watch, Archer saw two men descend the front steps of the hotel

  and head for the BMW. He recognised the first man as the American former sergeant, but the

  second man was partially obscured by him and Archer couldn’t see him clearly. The sergeant

  moved round to the front passenger’s door, and the second man opened the door behind the

  driver. As he did so, he cast a look over his shoulder in Archer’s direction.

  A cold fist gripped Archer’s gut. It was the gunner who had killed Bula two years ago. The Dixie

  boy he’d laid out cold, and who’d been cleared of any misconduct by an inquiry.

  He felt his pulse quicken as he watched the two men get in and the BMW move away from the

  kerb. If they were operating as a three-man team that meant the driver would be TJ Wheeler. It

  also meant that it had been the Dixie boy who’d Tasered him.

  He’d never learned the names of the Black Star contractors involved in the shooting, but hoped

  that the lead from the stolen wallet would now lead him somewhere.

  As soon as the BMW turned the corner Archer made his way into the hotel, bounding up the steps

  into the foyer.

  The receptionist behind the desk was the same Eastern European girl who’d been on duty the

  previous night. She was bent over something on the desk behind the counter-top, and looked up

  with a start when Archer strode in.

  ‘Aahh..’

  ‘Morning,’ he said cheerily, plucking a brochure from a display on the counter-top.

  It advertised guided bus tours of the city, and he held it up for her to see.

  ‘Now tell me,’ he said, ‘are these tours any good? I need something to do tomorrow, but I don’t

  want anything really touristy. What would you recommend?’

  She hesitat
ed, as if unsure whether to answer or not.

  ‘Aahh, umm. .yes, I would say they are very good, in my opinion.’ She nodded vigorously, her blue

  eyes wide under a formidable set of false lashes.

  ‘Lovely, thanks.’ He gave her a warm smile. ‘Can I order lunch here, or do I have to call room

  service? I’ve got an awful lot of work to do and I can’t be bothered going out.’

  ‘Umm, aahh, yes, if you can order here is okay.’

  She produced a pad and Archer ordered a steak sandwich, fruit salad and orange juice. Giving her

  another smile he went upstairs to his room.

  The piece of tissue had been dislodged and was on the carpet by the door. His suitcase was on the

  luggage rack where he’d left it, and he noticed the zip had shifted positions slightly.

  The room had clearly been searched, and he was certain that the receptionist would be on the

  phone right now to the Americans. While speaking to her he’d seen she had a handbag on the

  desk, presumably putting away the money she’d just been paid for allowing access to his room.

  It was safe to assume the deal would include making a phone call once he returned.

  Archer paused to think for a moment. The Americans clearly didn’t want him to know they’d been

  there, which in turn meant they wanted to know something on the quiet. Either they had wired

  his room or they had been looking for something particular in his luggage. He knew there was

  nothing for them to find, as he had taken the stolen wallet and its contents with him.

  That left the first option as the most likely.

  He tossed his coat and jacket on the bed, and loosened his tie, trying to figure out what it all

  meant. They obviously knew who he was and who he worked for, and therefore presumably the

  reason for his presence in London. This made it clear they had a shared interest, but Archer

  couldn’t determine how far that went. Were the Americans after Yassar, Boyle or both? Did they

  want to kill or capture either of them? Were they working for the Government or a private entity,

  and if so, who? Were they simply after the bounty on Yassar’s head?

  He decided he had more questions than answers right now, but at least he knew one thing for

  certain; there was a leak somewhere.