by Chris Ryan
Porter looked up at March and shrugged. ‘Looks like Soames had done well for himself.’
March said nothing. She closed the folder and dug out a pack of Camels from her Marc Jacobs handbag. Then she plucked out a tab, lit it and took a long drag.
‘Ronald isn’t just another retired general. He’s one of the most decorated soldiers in the British army.’ She read from his CV again. ‘He was awarded the Military Cross for his actions during an IRA ambush outside Belfast. In addition he’s a recipient of the Distinguished Service Order and received the honour of Knight Commander of the Order of the British Empire.’
‘That doesn’t mean a thing.’ Porter laughed. ‘They’re bullshit medals.’
March gave him a stern look. ‘I think that’s just jealousy speaking, don’t you?’
Porter felt a spark of anger flare up inside his chest. He shook his head and said, ‘Do me a favour. It’s the worst-kept secret in Hereford that Soames didn’t earn that MC. That cunt was sitting behind a desk at barracks while the other lads were out on the top. He wrote up his own citation afterwards.’
‘Whatever you may think, the plain truth is that Ronald is a highly valuable asset,’ March replied curtly.
‘How do you mean?’ asked Bald.
March paused while she took another drag on her cigarette. ‘Ronald does us favours, from time to time.’
Bald grinned. ‘So do the girls at Spearmint Rhino, love.’
March glared at him before she replied. ‘Ronald has a particular set of skills. He’s good at working in the grey areas, the shadows. He also happens to be very well connected. He knows everyone worth knowing. More importantly, he knows everything about them.’ She tapped ash in the ashtray and smiled thinly. ‘Let’s just say he knows how to get things done.’
‘That’s one way of putting it,’ said Porter. ‘Here’s another. The bloke’s dodgier than a late-night kebab. He stitched up plenty of lads in the Regiment. He’s a professional back-stabber.’
‘Perhaps,’ March conceded. ‘But Ronald is useful in those places where it’s politically inappropriate for us to be involved. Places where we need influence, but we can’t be seen to be using it. The world is changing. Transparency is everything now. The days of direct intervention are over. Men like Soames buy us power without putting boots on the ground.’
‘Must pay well and all,’ said Bald. ‘I never served under Soames in the Regiment, but I’ve heard that the guy is rich as fuck.’
‘Ronald doesn’t do this for the money,’ Hawkridge countered. ‘He’s a patriot. He has plenty of friends inside Whitehall. People who are grateful for the work he’s done on our behalf. And right now he’s in trouble.’
‘What kind of trouble?’
Hawkridge drummed his fingers on the table, shifting his small dark eyes from Bald to Porter. ‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘How much do either of you chaps know about the situation in Sierra Leone?’
‘It’s a shithole full of chogies and AIDS,’ Bald quipped.
Hawkridge coughed politely. ‘That’s a rather succinct way of putting it, I suppose. Although the reality is somewhat more complicated. As you’re probably aware, Sierra Leone is in the grip of a decade-long civil war. Nine years ago the armed forces of the Revolutionary United Front, backed by soldiers from Liberia, attempted to overthrow the Sierra Leone government under President Joseph Momoh. The RUF, led by Foday Sankoh, quickly took control of large swathes of the country and forced Momoh into exile in a military coup. Ever since, the RUF and the civilian government have been at war. We’re talking an endless cycle of coups, revolts and mass killings.’
‘Like every other African hellhole, then,’ said Bald.
‘Not quite. You see, Sierra Leone has huge diamond deposits. Vastly more than any other country in the region, and located close to the surface. Which means that one doesn’t need expensive machinery to mine the land for diamonds. Which means the RUF has had a ready-made source of funds for its military operations.’
‘Blood diamonds,’ said Porter.
Hawkridge nodded. ‘Exactly. In the past the RUF has relied heavily on the blood diamond trade to pay for their rebellion. Their soldiers smuggle the deposits south of the border to Liberia, where they are processed and cleaned by Lebanese fences, then sold onto Western markets. We’re talking about a trade worth hundreds of millions of dollars per year. Money which goes directly into the RUF’s war chest.’
March said, ‘Four years ago, HMG decided to intervene. A resolution was passed and UN peacekeepers were put on the ground. The country voted for its first democratically elected president, David Ibrahim Fofana.’
March took a last drag on her Camel. Blew out smoke and stubbed the butt out in the ashtray. Then she brushed her hair back and went on.
‘The electoral process wasn’t smooth. And it wasn’t exactly clean. But it was clean enough for HMG and our cousins in Washington to throw our support behind the new man. However, Fofana’s position is weak. Large parts of the country remain under rebel control. Outside Freetown, the country is a war zone. If Fofana was going to stay in power, we had to secure the diamond mines and stop the rebels from seizing the deposits. Which is where Ronald came in.’
‘How so?’ Bald asked.
‘Janus International was awarded a contract to protect the mining fields in Kono, in the rural east of the country,’ March said. ‘Kono is the biggest diamond mining region in Sierra Leone. Which makes it potentially the biggest in West Africa. Which makes it potentially one of the biggest in the world.’
‘The Kono mining fields are critical to President Fofana’s hopes of staying in power and defeating the RUF,’ Hawkridge cut in. ‘If the rebels managed to seize Kono, they’d be able to bankroll their operations for years to come. Any hopes of ending the conflict would be dead in the water.’
He turned to March. She said, ‘Soames was operating in Sierra Leone with our implicit consent. You might say we have a vested interest in Soames running security on the diamond mine.’
‘Or rather we did,’ Hawkridge said. ‘Until twenty-four hours ago.’
Porter said, ‘What happened twenty-four hours ago?’
Hawkridge paused and glanced at March.
‘The situation changed,’ he said.
‘How?’ Bald asked.
‘The rebels launched a new offensive. No one was expecting it. They took everybody by surprise, swept through the government checkpoints and reached as far as Port Loko, less than fifty miles from Freetown. President Fofana and his advisors fled across the border to Conakry, Guinea.’
March cleared her throat. ‘Without Fofana, the civilian government has effectively collapsed. The rebels have taken great encouragement from the president’s departure. We believe that they are preparing for a full-blown assault on the capital. There’s widespread panic on the streets. Everyone remembers what happened the last time the RUF rolled into town. Their soldiers engaged in an orgy of violence. Looting, rape, murder. Thousands were killed, many more displaced.’
Porter scratched his jaw. ‘Where’s Soames in all this?’
‘Somewhere inside Freetown,’ Hawkridge said. ‘Overseeing the Kono contract. It’s imperative that we get him out of the city immediately. Before the security situation deteriorates any further.’
Bald gave a casual shrug of his shoulders. ‘So stick the guy on a plane. You don’t need to send us halfway across the world just so we can hold his fucking hand.’
‘It’s not as simple as that.’
Bald stared at the guy. ‘There’s a fucking surprise. When is it ever, with you lot?’
Hawkridge stiffened his jaw and said, ‘Yesterday morning GCHQ picked up chatter in Moscow. Their intelligence people at the FSB. It appears they’re dispatching a team to Sierra Leone.’
Porter did a double-take. ‘The Russians? What’s their involvement in all this?’
‘We’re not entirely sure. But we think it might be to do with the diamond mines.’
‘
Here’s what we know,’ March said. ‘The Russians have cut a deal with the military leader of the RUF rebels. A charming man who calls himself General Mosquito. The deal is, weapons in exchange for concessions on the diamond mines, in the event the rebels take over the country.’
Porter nodded. ‘That’s why the rebels have suddenly got their shit together. They’ve got brand-new kit from the Russians.’
‘Exactly,’ said Hawkridge. ‘We think the Russians have sent in a team to expedite matters. Take advantage of the chaos on the ground and knock Soames on the head. Once he’s out of the way they can seize control of the Kono mines. That would simultaneously cut short any attempt by Fofana to regain power and hand the keys to the country to the RUF.
‘And Russia’s new president gets an early win,’ March added.
‘So Soames is a target,’ Porter said.
March gave a cautious nod. ‘At this moment Downing Street is discussing options for a military response to drive back the rebels and help Fofana regain the initiative. But our first priority has to be to get Ronald out of the country. He’s under threat and he needs our help.’
Porter listened in silence. His head throbbed with pain. As if someone was stabbing the backs of his eyeballs with an ice pick.
‘What’s the plan?’ Bald asked.
‘Ronald has gotten us out of some tight spots in the past,’ March said. ‘Now we’re going to return the favour. We need you to fly to Freetown and find Soames. Then get him the hell out of the country. Before the Russians get to him first.’
FOUR
0729 hours.
Nobody said anything for a while. Porter felt the temperature inside the soundproofed room plummet. Silence filled the air. March sparked up another tab and watched the operators carefully. Like she was trying to gauge their reactions. Finally Porter broke the silence.
‘If you’re so worried about Soames, why don’t you just tell him to hop on a plane?’
‘Two reasons.’ March took a puff of her cigarette, then propped it on the side of the ashtray. Smoke drifted lazily towards the foam-covered ceiling. ‘One, the situation on the ground is increasingly unstable. We have unconfirmed reports of armed groups sympathetic to the rebels already inside Freetown. That makes any Westerner a potential target. We’re advising all British nationals inside the city to stay indoors unless absolutely necessary. If Soames tries to check out of the country alone, he might run into trouble. Especially since he’s a close friend of President Fofana. Which makes him a sworn enemy of the RUF.’
Bald said, ‘What about a military evacuation? All them other expats will need rescuing if the country goes to shit. Get them to bail the old bastard out.’
‘It’s on the agenda.’ Hawkridge took off his horn-rimmed glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. ‘But it’s a question of time. We have no ships in the area and the nearest troops are over in Senegal.’ He set the glasses back on the ridge of his long nose. ‘It will be a couple of days before we can mobilise a force to evacuate British nationals. At least. By then it might be too late.’
Porter said, ‘What’s the second reason?’
‘We’ve tried contacting Ronald several times since we learned of the threat,’ March replied. ‘But there’s no answer at his company offices.’
‘What about his gaff?’ Bald asked.
‘Same thing. No answer.’
‘It’s possible that the comms are down,’ Hawkridge added. ‘They’re unreliable at the best of times. Or Soames might be trapped somewhere else in the city.’
‘Wherever he is,’ March cut in, ‘we have no way of reaching out to warn him of the Russian threat.’
‘Isn’t there anyone else on the ground locally?’ Porter said. ‘Someone who can make a run across town and knock on his door?’
Hawkridge said, ‘Unfortunately not. The only local resources we have are the staff at the British High Commission. It’s a skeletal staff. As you can imagine, they’re swamped dealing with expats trying to get out of the country. Even if we could spare somebody to warn Ronald, it doesn’t solve the problem of getting him on a plane without running into a team of armed Russians. Locating Soames is only half the problem. Once you find him, you’re going to have to watch his back closely.’ He shrugged. ‘For all we know, the Russians are already inside Freetown.’
‘Besides,’ said March. ‘It’s not just a question of protecting Soames. It’s about safeguarding the national interest.’
Bald furrowed his brow. ‘How’s that?’
March said, ‘Ronald is practically a Whitehall institution. He spent twenty years at the forefront of the MoD and is well versed in matters of national security. If the Russians get to him, there’s a serious risk that they might interrogate him and find out what he knows.’
Porter said, ‘You’re afraid he’d spill his guts?’
‘It’s a concern.’ March paused and smoked some more. ‘Even if he didn’t talk, his capture or death would be highly embarrassing. Soames is a man with plenty of friends. He’s on first-name terms with members of the royal family, not to mention several politicians and high-ranking public officials. If anything happened to him, it would reflect badly on his associates. Needless to say, those people are keen to make sure that he is returned safely to London.’ March paused and levelled her gaze at Porter. ‘Very keen.’
Porter listened and nodded. He could picture the headlines splashed all over the front pages of the red tops. A top international fixer with links to the Windsor set, on a questionable mission in Sierra Leone, being executed by a bunch of savage guerrillas. The media would have a field day.
‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘So the old boys’ network is shitting bricks and they want us to rescue one of their own. But how are we supposed to find Soames?’
‘Try the office first,’ Hawkridge replied stiffly. ‘It’s a more secure location than his apartment, and there’s a guest room on the ground floor. It’s quite possible Soames might be there, waiting this whole thing out.’
‘And if he isn’t?’
‘There’s a houseboy based at the office. Young fellow called Vandi. If Soames has gone off somewhere, he might be able to point you in the right direction. In the meantime, we’ll keep trying to reach him from our end.’
‘You’ll have to move fast,’ March said. ‘The situation in Sierra Leone is getting worse by the hour. The latest intelligence reports indicate that we have forty-eight hours until the rebels mount an attack on Freetown. Maybe less. You’ll need to land, locate Soames and extract him before the city falls.’
‘What if Soames has already bugged out of Freetown?’ Bald said. ‘He might have seen the way things are going and decided to leg it.’
‘Unlikely,’ Hawkridge replied with a sharp wave of his hand. ‘Most of the territory outside Freetown is held by the rebels. They’ve got checkpoints all over the place. Even if Soames did manage to avoid the rebels, there’s still the risk of running into the West Side Boys.’
‘I’ve heard of them,’ said Bald. ‘Bunch of chogie crackheads who dress like pooftas.’
Hawkridge grimaced. ‘That’s certainly one way of putting it. The West Side Boys aren’t aligned with any of the rebel factions. Their leader is a fellow by the name of Brigadier Foday Kallay. He’s a big fan of rape, looting and murder. Most of their soldiers were abducted as children and forced to torture or kill as part of their initiation. They dress in women’s wigs and flip-flops to intimidate the enemy, and they’re permanently drugged up on marijuana and heroin.’
‘Sounds like a Friday night in Brixton,’ said Porter.
‘Don’t be fooled. The West Side Boys are volatile, and dangerous. Two months ago Kallay’s men entered a village south of Freetown and rounded up anyone suspected of collaborating with the government. Twenty-three men, women and children in total. They took them down to a pit and executed them, one by one. Trust me, Soames won’t have left the city. Not with the West Side Boys running amok in the countryside.’
Porter
listened in silence. His hands had started to shake. He was half-tuned in to the briefing, half-tuned in to the voice in the back of his head. The one that told him he badly needed a drink. Just a little while longer, Porter told himself. He grabbed his right hand in his left and stilled it.
Hawkridge clasped his hands together. ‘Questions, gentlemen?’
‘What about weapons?’ Porter said.
Hawkridge made a sucking sound with his teeth. ‘I can’t help you there, old fruit. We can’t get you clearance to take guns aboard a commercial flight. Not without going through the official channels. And we’d prefer to have as few people as possible know about this operation, for obvious reasons.’
Porter glanced at his mucker. Bald looked incensed. His brow creased into a deep frown. The muscles on his neck strained like tensed rope.
‘What are we supposed to do if we bump into the Russians?’ he growled.
‘Forage and supply yourself locally. You’ll just have to be resourceful.’ Hawkridge smiled. ‘Isn’t that what you Hereford chaps are supposed to be good at? Fending for yourselves?’
Bald made no attempt to mask his anger. ‘Fucking great. So we’ve got to rescue some old Rupert in the middle of a coup, and now we’re going in half-cocked as well. This op just keeps getting better.’
The briefing room descended into another bout of silence. Hawkridge stared down the barrel of his nose at the two Regiment men.
‘If you have misgivings about the mission, now is the time to say so. You can walk away from the mission, if you prefer. I’ll see to it that you spend the next two years on secondment as PSIs instead. Your call.’