“No good looking at mine. Mrs Roberts had hers stolen a month ago, I’ve not reported it as the thief is spending less than she is!” He made a drum roll sound, miming it with his Mont Blanc pen – a gift from the aforementioned upon his latest promotion.
“Do you have any other jokes Jason?”
He smiled. “Actually I do. Why does Dr. Pepper come in a bottle?”
“I don’t know.”
“Because his wife left him.”
“Incredible. Do you have a filter? No, I didn’t think so. Jason, I need to make a call. Catch up later but for now think about this. She came here for a reason. Her daughter tracked Jack down in New Zealand. It was no coincidence and he knew it, just couldn’t put two together with itself. He was fooled, like any man, by her looks. But there was, and possibly still is a chemistry between them. I saw it, with my own eyes, in my own home. Alex sent people to hunt for her – her uncle as it happens and he all but killed the girl. He states he didn’t mean to and that we should believe him.” He took a second to compute it all in his head.
“We know that documents went missing, but despite there being indications about their apparent value no one seems to have been that bothered until another copy surfaced. Or rather until that copy surfaced in New Zealand in the hands of Elena Petrova.”
“Who, need I remind you is sitting in the next office?”
“I am aware of that.” He pushed the door to wish his heel. “Elena is a not just a pretty face. She’s trained Jason, could probably hospitalise both of us. She was sent by the Bulgarian government to find a man and ask him to do a job, a job that her mother was never able to finish.”
“And?”
“Christ I don’t know. Let’s throw theories into the wind. Bulgaria and a few other Eastern Bloc countries are coming out of the comparative dark ages. They know that the only way to make a success in the post-Soviet era is to join the new kids on the block – Europe, or rather the European Union. Get in there and their world opens up just a little. Trade, travel, security. But it also allows those nations to export their more troublesome members. They want to rid them from their country too.”
Roberts had abandoned the drawing and was now creating his own organisation chart on a clean sheet of A4.
“So Jack was the man?”
“No. I don’t think so. I think he was the conduit. She flew to East Midlands Airport as it was the only flight that day that she could get onto. She needed to get out of town. If it had been Birmingham or London Gatwick, then Jack Cade would still be a street copper in Nottingham and someone else would have had to sleep with a beautiful Bulgarian intelligence officer. Her aim was to get to London. Her aim was to meet someone. She met Jack. But he was the catalyst.”
“I was on secondment at Heathrow at the time. Typical. Could have been me!” Roberts knew his wife would have just loved that. “But you know Jack always maintained that he and Nikolina didn’t, cement the European Union, so to speak.”
“I believe him. Her daughter is another story altogether and I think he kicks himself, as a professional that he didn’t see through her act.”
“If it was? Who knows?”
“She had the means to find the document. But there should never have been copies. One document. No copies.”
“Or so they thought.”
“The document is the key to the lock. The lock opens the office. The office is Europe. Simple. We need to find the lock.” He repeated the word twice.
“Who is the lock, and why are they important? And what do they gain from this? Wealth? Migration? Power? The document talked about the United Kingdom leaving Europe behind and in turn sealing up its borders. It’s the border Jason. Migration. Worth more than any bank has in its vaults.” He scratched his head.
“One person wanted to open the floodgates, another wanted to keep them firmly closed…Who and why?”
“Well, JD, thanks, I started with one question and ended with twenty. What about an underground society?”
“You mean one that takes the tube to its meetings?”
“Respectfully, former chief inspector…”
“Point taken, current chief inspector.”
“Detective chief inspector.”
“Then detect. Go out and find the answer. You heard the lady – gloves off – feral – teeth – lions!”
“I’m trying but it’s such a frigging mess JD. This time we’ve got backing and an iron fist finally out of the velvety glove. But it’s still a mess. I feel like I’ve got the cherry and the icing, but no bloody cake.”
“You are obsessed with cake! Look, I agree this is a nest of vipers. Stroke one, get poisoned by another. In each camp there are venomous and non-venomous snakes Jason. To a point this is about money, not reputation. Someone, an organisation or a government is set to lose a lot. My suspicion all along is that Alex Stefanescu is in this for money and the notoriety that it provides him with. Someone else stands to lose more than both combined.”
“Or gain?”
Daniel nodded. “Or gain.”
“You know that Jack struggled with who to trust at one point don’t you John?”
“I do.” He rolled his lower lip over the top one creating a popping sound. It gave him a second to think. “Jason, one day I will tell Jack this.” He locked the office door, walked towards Roberts and sat as close to him as was possible before things became uncomfortable.”
“A number of years ago I was on a unit. Based in the city. Long before my overt days of patrol inspector and manager of the Communication Centre.” He saw Roberts’ face alter.
“What are you trying to tell me John?”
“That the unit was covert. Back then, I was a detective sergeant. I worked with the current commissioner. We were good friends. Still are. The government of the time was heavily embroiled in Europe and was looking further afield, trying to see how we could make Britain great again. Heads rolled, enemies were made and secrets were taken to the grave.”
“Can you elaborate without garrotting me in my own office?”
He laughed, quietly “Hardly. Besides, I checked, under my old desk there used to be a long piece of wire but it’s gone!”
“So? What do I need to know?”
“The unit operated under the title of Griffin. Op Griffin was chosen as it signifies courage, strength, intelligence and leadership. Ancient folklore told of the Griffin’s feathers being able to give sight to the blind. The long story short is that Griffin and its team was designed to protect British interests – almost at any cost. There were military units attached, and a select group of diplomats – including the parents of our Mr Hewett.”
Roberts’ face dropped. “John Hewett? The bad boy made bloody good? Mr Teflon?”
“The same. Explain now why he was given a cloak of protection?”
“No, not really.”
“Griffin still exists Jason. I am still a member. Op Orion is unwittingly a part of it. Protect the city. Protect its people. But protect its interests first and foremost, and that means preventing the flood of immigrants, tying up business deals, arms supplies, strategic networking. And the core to all of that lies in that one document.”
Roberts lifted his head off the desk, stared at the ceiling. “Three documents John. Three. Now I start to see how this is important. What I don’t understand is how some Bulgarian girl ends up with the damned thing. What’s the connection?”
“Griffin is made up of five units. Us, that is Britain, Germany, France, the Netherlands, and everyone’s favourite neutrals, the Swiss. Everyone else was going to be persona non grata. The richest in Europe forming their own union, espousing the rest, leaving them to fend for themselves. The leaders wanted it, however, there was one proviso. It would be a republic; no monarchies.”
Roberts was chewing the end of his Mont Blanc. “This is the stuff of SPECTRE…”
“No. It’s not. It’s real. You couldn’t make this up. It’s as real as the pen in your mouth, and the plan was to t
ell the world as one harmonious and future-proofed unit ‘We are the new order in Europe an exclusive brotherhood of the best performing nations in the EU.’ But not just yet. Seems like the cat was let out of the bag – and the cat burglar in this case, the ones who were just beginning to the evolve and could see light at the end of a long dark tunnel, and how this could benefit them in so many ways?”
“Bulgaria by any chance?”
“Bingo! Their intelligence officers are among the best. Somehow one of them managed to embed themselves into the UK – spoke the language, had an impressive C.V. – even sounded British. It was whilst they were here they found the document, headed home to a hero’s welcome, albeit one that would never be publicly heralded. They banked it for their own future. And all was fine, until one cold and blustery night.”
“It’s OK, I’m sitting comfortably.”
“Good, then I shall begin.”
Daniel spent the next seven minutes outlining what he knew, the old days and how he had met and worked with some Eastern European teams, some he owed his life to. This was not a world that Roberts had equated Daniel to, not at all. When he had returned to normal policing Daniel was offered any role he wanted within the Metropolitan Police – a secondment here, an attachment there, even overseas posts. He turned them all down. He joined the police to make a difference – to protect life and property.
And that is what he did. And he did it well. Spent years in the Criminal Investigation Department, a brief spell running a traffic unit, some quality time at Bramshill, the school of excellence and then a commission. He could have been a Commissioner with what he knew. His friend chose that path instead.
“So that’s why you came to head our unit, after the night of the bus crash?”
Daniel was nodding, wishing he had his own pen to dine on. “Yes, that and a few other reasons. Wheels within wheels. I policed the city for years but three times a year I attended a conference.” He did that thing with two fingers of each hand to emphasise the last word.
“The conference was a briefing, a chance to ensure that Griffin and what it stood for was on track.”
“And the blustery evening?”
“One Alex Stefanescu entered the hallowed grounds of the Durzhavna Sigurnost.”
“The Bulgarian State Security place?”
“The very same. He turned a photograph of the Director upside down, just to prove a point. I’m told that he left it so perfectly square that a spirit level would have failed to find fault.”
“And that was all he left with, a wry smile?”
“No, of course not. He left with a very nice document; the cat burglar had entered the lion’s den, clawed the curtains, pissed on the carpet and left through the metaphorical cat flap. They knew, he knew and that my friend is how our man Alex has led a charmed life ever since. Locked up here, released there. Allowed to roam, to exploit, but every now and then pulled to heal on the choke chain.”
“By Nikolina?”
“That was the plan. We were in on it too. Provided intelligence, and a few deniable resources.”
“SAS?”
“Need to know.”
“So what happened with Niko then?”
“Stockholm Syndrome. She fell for her captor. As brutal as he was she couldn’t leave, kept telling her bosses that the time wasn’t right, that she just needed a little more, and each day and week that passed by she became more infatuated with him and the lifestyle. She became pregnant, and that is when things changed. They gave her one more week, or they would find her themselves – and she knew they would. She needed to protect her own life and that of her unborn child.”
“Not nice.”
“No. And she knew they would always look – making her glance in shop windows, scanning, never relaxing. One day they would get her.”
“Poor girl.”
“So, the tough question. Where do we fit into all of this?” Fair question.
“You, me, many others – we are pawns. You and I are the small fry and the government the big game fishermen. We have ended up working with the live bait.”
“Jack?”
“Jack. If it wasn’t him, then someone else, it’s how it is. Sacrifices they call them.”
“Funny how the word expendable is only used when we win.”
“Indeed. It’s all about timing and luck. Britain, or rather the United Kingdom had hoped to keep this whole thing tightly sealed under the floorboards. The bus crash, believe it or not, was the first time I got that feeling that the mouse trap had been primed.”
“So what about the likes of Elena?”
“Ah, she’s the honey trap – again, no one expected her to fall for Jack.”
“It’s understandable I guess. Good looking guy.”
Daniel smiled. “Yes. But right now we need to wrap a cordon around him and everyone else connected to Griffin and that includes Elena – treat her as one of us until we find out differently. Carrie too. You need to start, if you haven’t already, planning for the next phase. It’s not coming Jason. It’s here.”
“Noted. I’ve got this you know JD.”
“Oh I know you have my friend. Don’t take anything I say over the next few weeks as a criticism. They brought me back from my peaceful place. Have you never questioned why I chose to head so far away to live what is left of my life?”
“I just thought it was the combination of great food, beautiful beaches and stunning women?”
“Talking of stunning places. Tomorrow I’ll take you for a stroll along the Embankment, show you a few things you may have missed, things that most Londoners do, subtle, but there – understand where they fit in, you’ll understand everything else. It’s like the moment you figure out how to do the Rubik’s Cube.”
Roberts laughed. “I took mine to bits.”
“Me too. It’s how we conquered the world. I’ve got a meeting tonight but I’ll be on deck in the morning. May be worth ringing Jack, see how they are doing?”
“Will do. And JD?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks for coming back.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Cade took a pool car and drove to the hospital nearest to the old factory. He arrived at the Princess Royal near Orpington, Kent. It was the best facility to deal with a trauma case such as O’Shea. Helimed Two One had landed long before Cade had even started to negotiate traffic heading south out of the city. His discreet blue lights and less discreet wailers helped him negotiate his way to her bedside in forty minutes.
He parked wherever he could, and walked at a pace – Englishmen should walk and never run and all that. The walk helped him to warm up; it was getting colder by the hour.
“A and E please?”
“That way, but you won’t be able to get in without…”
He unbuttoned his jacket and flashed an ID at the pursuing security guard.
“You’re doing your job, commendable, just back away or I’ll bring all hell down on you. No hard feelings.” Cade smiled.
The guard wasn’t content. “You need to move your car and I need to see that ID.”
“Yes, you do. Here.” He held it up. It displayed his photo and a name on a watermarked background that simply stated, in red capitals, UK Government. On the back were letters, each one denoting levels of security clearance. Cade’s resembled a Scrabble board.
“OK. Happy? Good man.”
“Well, it’s not that simple, I need to…”
Cade’s infamously blue eyes were ringed with red lids, raw from the freezing wind. Weeks of travelling around the world, stress and a desire to end this, whatever this was. He held his hand out, encouraging the guard to do the same.
“Jack Cade. Love that you love your work.” He checked the opposing ID. “Malcolm. I’ve been awake for days and I’m trying to resolve a situation that might one day save your grandchildren from a life of poverty, if indeed you are ever lucky enough to meet that special person. I make one phone call and you will disappear from here by�
�” He checked his Tissot Seastar, its face as blue as Cade’s eyes, “…Four o’clock. By six you’ll be guarding the main door at Tesco in Wolverhampton, retiring early with a pension the size of your manhood after you walk miserably around the car park in a snowstorm hunting for that one elusive trolley.”
“It’s that way, Mr Cade.”
“Thank you. Now let go of my hand, please.”
“Jack. I’ve always wanted to be a police officer…”
“Fuck off, Malcolm.”
“OK. Ring me if you get chance.”
“Dear God. Do you want to find a bed next to the patient I’m in a hurry to go and see?”
He begrudgingly took the hint and walked off, checking doors, pressing his earpiece.
As Cade marched towards the ICU, his hip pulsed – a call. He pulled the phone up to his eye line without pausing.
“Cade.”
“Jack. Long-time no. Mac Woods here from Kent Police.”
It was a genuine distraction. Woods had worked with Cade in the early days of Operation Breaker and had made a great impression.
“Well, bugger me Mac. How are you?” Cade was smiling for the first time in days.
“I’m OK. Still on the squad, same crew actually, now that they’ve stopped blowing themselves to bits we are doing well.” He sucked busily on a trademark roll-up. “We are at the old fireworks factory, Jack. Little birdie from the CID tells me you have an active interest.”
“I do. My two sergeants with you?”
“Yes, DS McGee is charming – if only I were five years younger.”
“Ten more like.”
Woods laughed down the cell phone. “And Sergeant Fisher is cut from the same cloth as me. Swears when it’s necessary. Which is all the time. Look I’ll cut to the chase as I know this is a fluid op. Nothing here, mate. We put the full team onto it. Dogs, air support, voice appeal. No answer. We went in and the place was abandoned. Couldn’t even toss in a flash bang.”
“Nothing?”
“Oh no old son, I didn’t say nothing, just abandoned. A few rooms were being used as dorms, twenty beds at least, possibly hot bunking, catering kit, generator, black out blinds and what looks like an operating theatre. Bloody ‘orrible. Old shitty bandages on the floor and a stench like the gates of Hades had been left open. I’ve got a cast-iron stomach, Jack, but Christ…this was very nasty. God alone knows what’s been happening here.”
Seven of Swords (The Seventh Wave Trilogy Book 3) Page 43