by Chris Ryan
‘Twat.’ Bald mock-scowled at Porter. Then his face relaxed into a smile. ‘Speaking of which, let’s finish up and get the fuck out of here. I don’t know about you, but I could murder a bloody pint.’
TWENTY-SEVEN
2138 hours.
It took them almost an hour to prep the blaze. While Tannon made arrangements with Médecins sans Frontières volunteers based in a nearby village to take the children into protective custody, Bald and Porter organised the fire. They dragged the bodies into the main orphanage building, because they figured it would be easier to start one big fire instead of several smaller ones. Solomon helped out too. The three carted the dead guys into the guest suite and dumped them on the floor. Tully first, then Soames. Then Nilis and Spray-Tan. The three men were soon sweating hard from the strain of lifting all that dead weight. Then they retrieved several of the worn car tyres and wooden pallets from the front of the compound and lugged them over to the orphanage, along with one of the jerry cans taken from the back of the Range Rover. They dumped everything in the guest suite, then doused the tyres and pallets. Tannon emptied the computers from the outlying building and added them to the pile in the annexe. She found a toolbox in the Portakabin and took a power drill to the hard drives. The only way to make sure the data was fully corrupted, she explained. Then she took the drives and the CDs and the backup tapes, and threw everything onto the pile.
When they had finished building the fire, Bald and Porter stripped the bodies of anything that might identify them to the authorities. Wallets, watches, jewellery. They wanted it to look as if the Russians were security guards working for Soames, Tannon said. MI6 would create false identities and add them to the list of personnel employed by Soames’s PMC. It was unlikely that the FSB would publicly claim the dead Russians as their own. And it was important to make the story look convincing, she added. So no one tried digging too deep, asking too many questions.
Then they lit the fire.
The flames spread quickly, consuming the annexe, then the rest of the orphanage. They watched the fire from a safe distance to the south. Black smoke gushing into the blacker sky. They all agreed they felt better after setting fire to the building. Not great, but better. It was a start, Tannon said. A case as wide-reaching as this, nothing was going to be straightforward. Hawkridge would pay, along with anyone else at Five who helped run the orphanage. She had already contacted Angela March. Her handler was hinting that Hawkridge wouldn’t be going to prison. That people higher up the food chain had already decided it would be better if he simply disappeared.
Porter said he was okay with that.
They watched the fire burn for a while. Then Tannon collected the diamonds that had been emptied from the floor safe in the Portakabin and bagged them as evidence, to Bald’s obvious disappointment. Tannon said the diamonds were potentially compromising. They could provoke an international scandal, particularly if it was proven that Soames had been stealing diamonds from the mine owners with the complicit knowledge of Whitehall. She didn’t say what would happen to the diamonds, and Porter didn’t ask.
Shortly after ten o’clock four aid vehicles arrived at the mine. Eight MSF volunteers debussed and began tending to the children. The kids were hesitant at first. Then the volunteers started dishing out sweets and bottles of Coke, and they were soon smiling as they were each given a brief medical examination before being ushered into one of the wagons. Solomon joined them. He gave Bald a bear hug before he left and promised Jock that one day he would come visit him in London. Bald didn’t look too happy, but said nothing. Three minutes later the aid convoy rolled out of the compound, headlamps shrinking to pinpricks in the solid black mass of the night.
Then Porter, Bald and Tannon left. They took the Discovery, because the Range Rover was almost out of petrol. Porter drove, with Tannon riding shotgun and Bald in the rear passenger seat. It was a forty-mile drive east to the border with Guinea, along a bumpy and desolate track. Pitch-black, so Porter took it slow. They didn’t run into any trouble. He figured the local rebels were probably busy partying in their camps. They crossed the border around midnight and hit the airfield thirty minutes later.
The airfield was a single-lane runway set in the middle of a barren field, with a low-rise concrete building to one side. There was a light cargo aircraft at the end of the runway. A Cessna 208 Cargomaster, with EVERGREEN CARGO splashed down the side in the same big gold lettering Porter had seen back at Lungi airport. He steered the Discovery to a halt next to the building. Cut the gas.
Three guys were waiting outside the office. Two guards, and Shoemaker. The guy who had greeted Bald and Porter at Lungi airport two days ago. Two days, but it feels like a lifetime ago, thought Porter. Me and Jock have been through hell and back since then.
He said, ‘The CIA were helping you out?’
‘They’re an interested party,’ Tannon replied. ‘They were worried about Soames, but for very different reasons.’
‘How’d you mean?’
‘The Russian angle. The Agency’s playing a bigger game. They’re worried about Russia trying to increase its sphere of influence in Africa. The new president’s looking to flex his muscles, buying power wherever he can and propping up dictators to do business with. Washington’s keen to clip his wings. Anything that could give the Russians leverage in Sierra Leone was a threat.’
They debussed. Shoemaker acknowledged Porter and Bald with a tip of his baseball cap. Tannon headed for the office.
‘I’m going to put in a call to Angela,’ she said. ‘You guys go on ahead.’
Porter nodded, then started towards the Cessna. There’d better be some booze on that plane, he thought. I don’t care what. I’d knock back a Babycham right now.
‘One more thing,’ said Tannon.
Porter and Bald simultaneously stopped in their tracks and looked back at the deputy commissioner. Porter said, ‘What’s that?’
‘A couple of weeks from now, you’ll read about the deaths of two British heroes in the obituaries section. The report will state that Bob Tully and Ronald Soames died defending the mine against a rebel attack. They’ll be cited, I expect.’
Bald almost choked on the warm air. ‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding.’
‘We don’t have a choice. This cover story has to be watertight, to make sure the truth never gets out. Their families are less likely to investigate if Tully and Soames died as heroes. It makes them look less suspicious. In fact, don’t be surprised if there’s a posthumous investiture at Buckingham Palace.’
‘So Bob and Soames get a medal each. What the fuck do we get?’
Tannon shifted awkwardly on the spot. ‘We can’t acknowledge your role in this operation, for obvious reasons. But we can offer you something else.’
‘Like what? A pat on the back?’
‘A job.’
‘Working for who?’
‘Us,’ Tannon said. ‘You’re at a loose end with Five, and we could use a couple of guys like you at Vauxhall. We’ve got plenty of experts and middle managers, but not many people who are good at the dark stuff.’
Bald shook his head angrily. ‘Not for me, lass. I’m going back to Hereford. I’ve had enough of the grey-man crap.’
‘It’s not a choice,’ Tannon said. ‘It’s an order. Angela’s already requested your transfer from Five, as a matter of fact. You’ll start working for us immediately after the mission debrief.’
‘So that’s our reward?’ Porter said. ‘A job working at Legoland?’
‘It’s better than nothing.’ Tannon smiled at him. ‘And that’s ma’am to you, John. You can address me properly now I’m your new boss. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’ll see you on the plane.’
She turned and strode towards the office, nodding a greeting at Shoemaker. Porter watched her go, shaking his head in disbelief.
‘Looks like we’re going home empty-handed.’
‘Not quite, mate.’
Porter glanced at his mucker.
/> ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Bald didn’t reply. He watched Shoemaker and Tannon and the two guards disappear into the building. Waited until the door had closed behind them. Then he reached down into his side pocket, took something out. Whatever it was, Bald had clasped his fist tightly around it. He glanced around the airfield, making sure no one else was around. Then he extended his arm towards Porter and unclenched his fist.
‘I grabbed it while no one was looking back at the compound. Just before we left the manager’s office,’ he said. ‘And I know a bloke in Amsterdam who can fence it for us . . .’
Nestling in the palm of his hand was a rough diamond the size of a golf ball.
THE END
Table of Contents
Also by Chris Ryan
Title Page
Imprint Page
Contents
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN