Shadow Kill: A Strikeback Novel

by Chris Ryan

  ‘Drop the fucking tool,’ Bald said.

  Tully didn’t move.

  Soames stood between the two men. His eyes shifted cautiously from Tully to Bald. ‘Think about what you’re doing,’ he said, nerves creeping into his voice. ‘It doesn’t have to go down like this. You can join us. We’ll cut you in on the profits from our arrangement.’

  Bald frowned. ‘What arrangement?’

  ‘When you two came looking for me at the hotel, it confirmed my suspicions that Five were looking to bury me,’ Soames explained. ‘So I made alternative plans. Bob and myself are leaving Sierra Leone. We’re going to seize the discs, relocate to Guinea and use the footage to blackmail HMG. Those fools in Westminster will pay whatever it takes to keep this material away from the public eye. Along with the revelation that senior figures in British intelligence were helping to run this place.’ He smiled at Bald. ‘We’ll ransom the government and live like kings.’

  Bald’s eyes narrowed in thought. Porter bristled with anger and frustration. ‘The Firm won’t let you get away with this.’

  That prompted a hearty chuckle from Soames. ‘I hardly think they’ll have much choice. If they kill me, I’ll see to it that the footage from this orphanage is released to the editor of every major newspaper in Britain.’ He shrugged. ‘Although if you’re the best operator Five can rustle up, I shouldn’t have too many sleepless nights. It says something about our intelligence agencies that they’re relying on a washed-up old drunk to do their dirty work, don’t you think?’

  ‘Piss off.’

  Soames hardened his gaze. ‘You always were a fool, Porter. Straight as a bat, but you never had any guile. Unlike your friend,’ he added, gesturing to Bald. ‘You’re obviously a smart fellow, Jock. You’re not going to pass up the opportunity of a lifetime just so you can be pushed around by some overpaid fool at Thames House, are you? Put down the gun, and join us. I’ll make you filthy rich. You have my word.’

  Bald said, ‘How much wonga are we talking about here?’

  ‘Millions,’ Soames responded, his voice growing steadily more confident. He took a half-step closer to Bald. ‘You’ll have enough money to keep you in women and drink for the rest of your days.’

  He’s actually considering it, thought Porter.

  Bald clamped his eyes shut for a moment, as if wrestling with his conscience. His finger tensed on the pistol trigger. Porter looked on helplessly at Bald, his skin pricked with fear. He imagined the 5.45x18mm round exploding out of the PSM’s snout. The nugget of hot lead boring through his frontal lobe, mashing up his brain matter before exiting through the back of his neck. Soames looked on, grinning expectantly.

  Porter said, ‘Think about what you’re doing, for fuck’s sake. You’re not gonna kill me to protect some dodgy ex-Rupert, are you?’

  ‘Don’t listen to him!’ Soames thundered. ‘Porter’s a dead man either way. The only choice is whether you want to be rich, or end up in a mine pit next to this drunken fool.’

  Bald kept the PSM trained on Tully. But his finger paused on the trigger. There was the slightest flicker of hesitation in his eyes, Porter noticed. A barely perceptible twitch of his facial muscles.

  He’s wavering.

  ‘Soames is lying,’ Porter said. ‘As soon as your back is turned, he’ll drop you.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ said Tully, making his appeal directly to Bald. ‘Ronald’s telling the truth. You can trust me, Jock. We’re friends.’

  Bald clenched his jaws. He’s going to do it, thought Porter. He’s going to turn on me and put a bullet in my head. You’ve got to keep trying to get through to him. That’s your only chance.

  ‘If you kill me, you’ll have the Firm on your back,’ he said. ‘The Regiment will hear about it too. You know how word gets around. You’ll make an instant enemy of every bloke who’s ever walked through the gates at Hereford. You’ll be fucking marked. You’ll spend the rest of your days looking over your shoulder.’

  ‘Ignore him!’ Soames yelled. ‘Kill Porter, man!’

  And then it happened. Bald slanted the PSM away from Tully and rested the weapon on Porter. Specifically, at a point between his eyes. Porter could hardly believe what was happening. The cold, hard look of certainty calcified in Bald’s eyes, and the grim realisation seized Porter that there was nothing he could say to sway Bald’s mind. Nothing I can do to stop that Jock bastard from pulling the trigger.

  Bald relaxed his shoulder muscles. A cruel smile formed on his lips. He took a deep breath. Tensed his trigger finger. The pistol hammer poised to spring forward and eject the round nestled in the chamber. To the left, Soames looked on, grinning from ear to ear. Tully lowered his rifle.

  It’s over, Porter thought.

  He closed his eyes and waited to die.

  In the next instant he heard the booming crack of a round discharging.

  It took half a second for Porter to register that he hadn’t been shot. Then he opened his eyes and saw Bald standing in front of him, pointing his gun at Tully. Smoke wisping out of the barrel. Five metres to the left, Tully let out a sclerotic hiss of pain and staggered backwards. Blood spurted out of a wound to his abdomen, staining the seat of his trousers. He lifted his eyes to Bald, a look of dumb shock playing out on his face.

  Bald fired again. The second round thumped into Tully’s upper chest. Tully grunted and fell backwards, releasing his grip on the AK-47. Bald fired again as Tully landed on his back, his mouth sagging open in agony, his left hand pawing at the wound to his guts.

  Porter glimpsed a flicker of movement at his twelve o’clock. He looked up and saw Soames diving for the AK-47 that Tully had dropped. Bald hadn’t yet noticed the new threat. He was still emptying rounds into Tully, his features twisted with inhuman rage. The PSM only had a mag capacity of eight rounds, Porter knew. If Soames gets his hands on that rifle, we’re both fucked.

  Soames bent down to scoop up the rifle. Porter lunged forward. He had a second or two before Soames grabbed the AK. The guy was moving fast. But he was slower than Porter. Soames had spent his later years enjoying the good life, and it showed. Porter slammed shoulder-first into the guy before he could pick up the weapon, knocking him off his feet. Momentum carried Soames backwards a couple of paces. He let out a pained cry as he fell to the ground next to the building site, the impact driving the air from his lungs. Porter landed on top of him and snatched up a spare brick lying next to the cement mixer.

  ‘No, man!’ Soames pleaded. ‘Don’t! I can make you rich!’

  Porter raised the brick over his head then brought it crashing down, battering Soames’s face and shattering his front teeth. Soames let out a gasping groan of pain as Porter hit him again, battering the triangle of his face. Porter kept pounding away until there was nothing left of his face except a crater of flesh and blood and broken teeth. Soames gasped in pain between each ragged blow. At his six o’clock Porter could hear Bald getting the dead man’s click as he emptied the last round from the PSM clip into Tully.

  Soames begged him to stop.

  Porter raised his arm to strike again.

  Then he heard a second metallic click.

  Soames noticed something to his right. Coming from the annexe. Porter stopped and looked in the same direction.

  He saw the kitchen door at the rear of the annexe hanging open.

  Tannon stood a few metres beyond the doorway. A Makarov pistol snug in her two-handed grip.

  At first Porter wondered where she’d got the pistol. Then he remembered. The hotel rooftop. The lull before the second wave of rebels had attacked. He recalled handing Tannon one of the pistols. Telling her to turn the gun on herself if the hotel fell to the enemy.

  There’s one round in that chamber, Porter reminded himself.

  Tannon took two steps forward. Weapon raised. Her right arm fully extended, her support arm bent at a forty-five degree at the elbow. There was something about her firing stance that told Porter this wasn’t the first time she had handled a weapon.
She had the Makarov pointed broadly in the direction of Porter and Soames, but from the angle it was impossible to tell who she was aiming at.

  Me or my old CO.

  By now Bald had also become aware of Tannon’s presence. He stood over Tully’s limp body, his hands clasped around the grip of the empty PSM, watching the deputy commissioner as she edged forward. Porter cast an eye around the immediate area, evaluating the scene. Tully’s AK-47 and the spare Makarov were out of arm’s reach. The only one who’s got a gun right now is Tannon.

  ‘Help me,’ Soames rasped at Tannon in a nasal tone of voice. Blood trickled out of the corners of his mouth. ‘Kill this bastard.’

  Tannon took another step forward. Porter still couldn’t tell who she was aiming at.

  ‘I said kill him!’ Soames thundered. ‘This man is a traitor to his country. He’s threatening to jeopardise a vital MI5 operation. Call your boss if you don’t believe me. I’m a good friend of his.’

  Tannon stopped four metres away from Porter and Soames. She held the gun steady in her grip. Nobody moved.

  ‘If you know which side your bread is buttered, you’ll kill this scumbag and help me get out of the country,’ Soames went on. ‘I can make it worth your while. Whatever you want. Diamonds. Money. Promotion. Name it.’

  Tannon lowered the weapon.

  ‘This is for the kids,’ she said.

  Then she moved towards Soames and shoved the Makarov pistol into his mouth. Soames’s eyes bulged with fear. He made a muffled screaming noise deep in his throat as she pulled the trigger.

  The Makarov boomed. Soames jolted, as if a team of paramedics were trying to revive him with a defibrillator. His brains blasted out of the roof of his skull, splattering bits of cranium and brain matter across the red earth.

  Fuck him, Porter thought.

  He stood up. Tannon did too. She slid the Makarov out of Soames’s gaping mouth. The tip of the barrel was slick with blood. She let the pistol hang by her side. Stared down at his contorted, limp body.

  ‘Feel any better?’ Porter said.

  ‘You know that feeling when you step on a cockroach?’

  Porter nodded.

  ‘Like that,’ Tannon said.

  ‘Where’s Solomon?’ Porter asked, casting his eyes across the compound.

  Tannon pointed towards the front of the compound.

  ‘Watching over the children. I told him to stay put and guard them, no matter what.’

  Porter nodded. ‘We should tell the authorities.’

  ‘Solomon’s already on the case. We found a spare charger for the sat phone. I told him to call my contact at the Mothers of the Lost foundation. Let them know we found the kids.’

  She closed her eyes, as if trying to wipe the memory from the hard drive of her brain. But you don’t forget images like that, Porter thought. What me and Bald saw in that orphanage tonight, we won’t forget that in a hurry.

  ‘When I saw those poor kids streaming out of the orphanage, I knew something was wrong,’ Tannon continued. ‘So I ran over to investigate. That’s when I saw you and Soames struggling on the ground.’

  Porter stared at her for several seconds. ‘I thought you said you were no good with guns.’

  ‘A white lie. It was part of my cover.’

  ‘Cover?’ Porter repeated.

  Tannon nodded. ‘I work for Six. Angela is my boss.’

  A whole bunch of stuff clicked into place inside Porter’s head. Stuff that had been bugging him throughout the op. Like why Tannon had transferred from military intelligence to a backwater posting with the Foreign Office. Her interest in Soames. Why Angela March had been present at the mission briefing to begin with.

  Tannon is MI6.

  ‘Why did Angela send you here? To kill Soames?’

  Tannon shook her head. ‘Not initially.’

  ‘Why, then?’

  ‘I was brought in to look into his business affairs. Angela set me up with diplomatic cover at the High Commission. She’d heard rumours about rogue elements at Thames House helping to orchestrate a high-profile overseas network for Westminster paedophiles. She thought Soames might be involved and wanted someone on the ground to have eyes on him.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Bald said, shaking his head. He’d tossed the PSM aside and stepped away from Tully. ‘You’re telling me MI5 was running this operation, and no one at MI6 had a fucking clue?’

  Tannon stared at him. ‘Contrary to what you might believe, the spirit of cooperation between the intelligence services isn’t exactly strong. We share only what we need to share. Which isn’t much. We knew Soames had to be involved somehow. He was connected to a lot of the suspects. He had access to the Firm, he was part of the old boys’ network that operates at the heart of the establishment. He was in the perfect position, really.’ She slanted her gaze back to Soames. To the hole in the roof of his skull. ‘But we never expected this.’

  ‘Who else was involved at the Firm?’ Porter asked.

  ‘Hawkridge,’ Tannon replied. ‘But you probably figured that out already. Along with one or two others. We’re talking a small number of people. To limit exposure. The people at the very top will deny any knowledge, of course.’

  ‘Those bastards always do,’ Bald muttered.

  Porter said, ‘Why did Hawkridge agree to the op in the first place? If he knew Six was investigating Soames and the paedo network?’

  ‘He didn’t have a choice,’ said Tannon. ‘Hawkridge doesn’t have the clout to kill a live investigation. So his best bet was to stonewall it for long enough to get rid of the evidence, along with any witnesses. As far as we can tell, he planned to kill Soames and then dispose of you two quietly once you returned to the UK. That would have put him in the clear.’

  Porter clenched his teeth and dug his fingers into his palms. That’s why Hawkridge ordered us to kill Soames and destroy the evidence. The bastard was covering his tracks.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us earlier? That you were working for Six?’

  Tannon pursed her lips. ‘There were question marks about your loyalty.’

  ‘From you?’

  ‘From Angela. You both had a pre-existing relationship with Hawkridge. You were both working on secondment for Five. There was every chance you might have been on the inside on this whole thing.’

  ‘What now?’ Bald said.

  ‘We clear this place up,’ Tannon said. ‘Burn everything. Make it look like an attack from the West Side Boys.’

  ‘There’s one problem,’ Porter cut in. ‘We put in a call to Hawkridge on the Russians’ sat phone. They’ll know about this location by now. They’ll be sending more assets. If they’re not on the way already.’

  Tannon nodded thoughtfully. ‘Then we’ll need to move quick. The nearest Russian training camp to here is across the border in Liberia. That’s a two-hour drive from here. Three, max. We’ll have to get to work now. Remove any evidence of our involvement here.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘We get out of the country. There’s an extraction team with a plane waiting for us at an airfield east of here, on the border with Guinea.’

  ‘How far?’

  ‘Sixty miles, give or take. Which means we can be back on a plane by one o’clock in the morning and back in London by lunchtime. We’ll need a thorough debrief from you both, of course. Help expose Hawkridge and the others at Thames House.’

  Bald grinned at her. ‘You can debrief me any time you want, lass.’

  Tannon stared back at him. Said nothing.

  The anger welled up inside Porter again. Clawing at his vitals.

  ‘We shouldn’t be torching this place,’ he said. ‘We didn’t risk our necks just so a load of old paedos could be let off the hook. We should be taking all this footage and putting it out there.’

  ‘We can’t. My bosses won’t allow it. Believe me, I tried.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s too close to the top. The people in these files. They’re not middle manage
rs at Intel. They’re some of the most prominent names in politics and the military. People from the cabinet down would be tainted by association.’

  ‘That’s bullshit.’

  ‘It’s not my call to make. This place has to be wiped from the map.’

  ‘She’s right,’ Bald said. ‘We need to burn this place, mate. There’s too much at stake.’

  Tannon said, ‘This is a win for us, John.’

  ‘Yeah? It doesn’t fucking feel like one.’

  ‘Soames is dead. The orphanage is out of business. The kids here are safe now. We’ll have enough evidence to take down Hawkridge and the rest of the conspirators inside MI5. The old boys’ network will inevitably close ranks, but by then it’ll be too late.’

  Porter looked away. Towards the orphanage. The playground, the slotted Russians. The evening air was hot with the stink of lead and warm blood. Everything stood empty and still and terribly quiet. Like visiting the site of an old battlefield. He thought again about the footage he’d seen, the Tory MP pinning that boy to the ground, and he needed a drink. Like I’ve never needed one before in my life.

  ‘Fine,’ he said, returning his gaze to Tannon and Bald. ‘Let’s scrub this fucking place out of existence.’

  Tannon moved off to investigate the outlying building. She wanted to see for herself, despite Porter’s warnings about the content on the discs. He watched her walk away, then turned to Bald.

  ‘What was all that about back there? Pointing that fucking gun at me.’

  Bald grinned. ‘You didn’t think I was serious, did you?’

  Porter said nothing. He just stared at Bald.

  ‘I needed to get Tully to drop his guard,’ Bald went on. ‘He wasn’t going to lower his weapon until he was convinced I was about to pop you. That’s why I did it.’ He burst out into a full-throated laugh. ‘After all the shite we’ve been through today, you honestly thought I was going to put a bullet in your head?’

  ‘No,’ said Porter, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief.

  ‘I should fucking hope not, mate. You and me, we’re like brothers.’

  Porter grinned. ‘Careful, Jock. You’re getting emotional. You sure you’re not on the Bell’s again?’