by Matt Stark
“Ah, yes… A Miss Suzie Chiltern,” he said, studying the file, before looking up.
“She’s fine.” His words were clipped and a little too breezy for Sam’s liking.
Sam felt the skin between his eyes bunch up. “She was shot in the shoulder with a high-velocity weapon. That doesn’t usually result in fine.”
Stone pushed the corners of his mouth a little higher but his eyes stayed flat.
“The bullet didn’t hit anything vital. She’ll make a full recovery.”
For a moment Sam felt dizzy with relief. Maybe he wasn’t a total screw-up. He hadn’t got Suzie killed after all. Then he shook his head. No. He didn’t trust Stone.
“Where is she?”
Stone consulted the file again.
“Charing Cross Hospital.”
“I want to see her.”
Now it was Stone’s turn to shake his head.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Sam.”
“Why not?”
“She’s a civilian. We try to keep our people away from civilians. Sometimes paths cross but once they do we do our best to untangle them. If you saw her again you’d just be putting her at risk. Besides, we have a lot to talk about.”
Sam had a feeling that Stone was operating on multiple levels at the same time. Every reply, even the offhand ones, was probably considered, weighed before he spoke. God only knows what he really wanted from Sam.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I thought you might say that.”
Stone pulled the iPad toward him and tapped the screen a few times before turning it around to face Sam. On-screen was a bed, surrounded by monitors in a white room. Sunlight spilled through a window. Suzie was sitting propped up on the bed, her eyes closed. She looked incredibly well – better than Sam.
Sam felt his jaw unclench.
“As you can see she is fine.”
Sam watched Suzie for a long moment before looking up.
“I have some very important things to tell you,” said Stone, finally.
Sam ducked his head and raked his fingers through his hair, then looked back at the screen. Her face was peaceful. She was okay. He still wanted to see her with his own eyes. But he also needed answers to his questions, and Stone was the only one who seemed to know anything. Stone could be full of shit. But he was holding all the cards. Sam just had to keep going forward down the rabbit hole and see where it took him.
He fixed his eyes on Stone.
“Talk.”
***
Sam’s mother and father had worked for the British Consul in Hong Kong. He’d been expensively educated there, and had been expected to go to Cambridge to read English and Politics before joining the civil service like his parents. They had, Stone said, high ambitions for Sam. After Cambridge, with the help of their hard-won connections, he was to get a plum Government job, perhaps in the Foreign Office. He’d be cabinet secretary by thirty, and by forty who knew? – a seat in the cabinet, foreign secretary, maybe the top job? They had it all planned out. But Sam hadn’t gone to Cambridge. Instead he started officer training in the British Infantry at eighteen. He excelled and was soon selected for Special Forces. Two years later after a string of highly successful operations Stone asked him to join MI5, where he became one of their best agents.
Stone took a sip of his water and swallowed.
“This nightmare started on an operation in Budapest. You were supposed to pick up a package from a Chinese dissident – technical schematics for a new kind of power plant. You don’t need to know the details. But you made a mistake. For the first time in your career you got careless. Chinese State Security found out what you were up to, captured you and took you to a political prison in Beijing. We were powerless to act.”
Sam nodded. The Beijing part at least fitted. He asked the next question, almost casually.
“How long?”
Stone’s lips twitched. It was only a tiny movement, a few muscles above his upper lip, but Sam saw it and he knew it meant bad news was coming.
“Ten years.”
The corners of Sam’s vision went black. He grabbed the edge of the Formica table to steady himself, squeezing it hard. He’d been in a Chinese prison for ten fucking years. Was that why he’d lost his memory? Deep down he just didn’t want to remember what had happened so he’d blanked it out? The room was spinning. Jesus, ten years. If he’d had a wife, a family, they would have moved on. The service would have told them he was dead. Sam dragged his hands down his face, his jaw slack. What a fuck-up.
“Sam?”
Ten years. Sam couldn’t get the years he’d lost out of his head. How could he…
“Sam!”
Sam jerked. Stone was staring at him, his crumpled face worried. As far as Sam was concerned Stone and he had only just met. He was a stranger. But Stone’s expression said they were old friends. He poured a glass of water and shoved it toward Sam. Sam took a sip, forcing the liquid through a lump that had appeared in his throat. He knew it was the physical manifestation of the fear that was threatening to overwhelm him. And the only answer he had was to keep moving forward – focus his attention on something apart from his emotions. He put the glass back on the table.
“Why did they release me now?”
“They wanted to exchange you.”
“For who?”
“Three Chinese political prisoners, officers from the Ministry of State Security we’d been holding for a while.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. That didn’t sound right.
“Three?”
“I told you, Sam, you’re special.”
Sam sipped his water. One MI5 agent swapped for three senior Chinese prisoners – it didn’t add up. What made him so valuable to Stone and the British Government? He wanted to know but he wouldn’t pursue it right now. His instincts told him Stone wasn’t going to volunteer that information yet.
“So if everything was going so well, how come I woke up in Regent’s Park at 3 a.m. in the morning with my memory wiped?”
“We don’t know. Everything was going to plan up till then. The three MSS agents had already been released and were on their way to the exchange point. The Chinese Embassy in Portland Place had confirmed you and your escort were on schedule. We assumed you were in Portland Place at the time – it’s only a few minutes from Regent’s Park.”
Sam grabbed the jug and poured himself another glass of water, then took a sip. The lump in his throat was still there.
“So what made them change their minds? Deep Throat – I mean one of the MSS agents looking after me – had no intention of handing me over to anyone. In fact quite the opposite. He was getting goose bumps about taking me back to his torture chamber in Beijing.”
“We don’t know.”
“It doesn’t make any sense though, does it? Why bring me all the way to London just to take me straight back to Beijing? And why give up the three MSS agents?”
Then Sam remembered Deep Throat had said something about being made a fool of.
“Did you double-cross them?”
“No, Sam. I swear.”
Sam ducked his head and pushed the heel of his hand against his forehead. It was cold from resting on the Formica table. This wasn’t getting him anywhere. If Stone did know why the Chinese had changed their minds he wasn’t letting on. Of course that wasn’t the most important question. Why they agreed to exchange him in the first place was the biggie that hadn’t been answered yet. But Stone was a slippery bastard. Sam would have to approach that question indirectly.
“So what happened to my memory?”
Stone sighed. “I’m afraid we don’t know that either, Sam.”
Sam’s jaw clenched. Stone had to be stonewalling him. With his resources he had to know more than he was letting on.
“Come on, Stone. You’re a spook. Isn’t this kind of thing bread and butter to you? If you don’t know you must have some theories,” he said.
“We need JIS Medical to assess y
ou properly, but my guess is you have global amnesia, probably brought on by what happened to you in Beijing. It’s common in people who’ve experienced intense trauma – mental or physical. Essentially it’s the mind protecting itself. The technical term is PTSD – post-traumatic stress disorder. In plain English your mind has shut out what it doesn’t want to remember.”
Sam took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. Another plausible piece of information that tallied with his guesses. But that still left the biggie unanswered. Why would the British Government give up three senior MSS intelligence officers for one agent who’d been rotting in prison for ten years? And what about the Chinese? They should have been cock-a-hoop to get their guys back. So why did they change their minds and pull out at the last minute? Someone in Beijing must have come to the same conclusion as the British. Sam was more valuable than the three MSS agents. But why?
He tried changing tack.
“Can you tell me anything about my life before? Do I have a family?”
“Your parents are dead. You have a sister in Australia. You haven’t seen her for fifteen years.”
“Was I married, kids?”
Stone shook his head.
“I’m afraid you were married to the service, Sam.”
Great – as well as losing his memory he was a miserable bastard.
“Sam. I need you back in the field.”
Sam blinked at Stone. The bags under the man’s eyes seemed even darker – his cheeks redder. But his eyes were clear and blue. Stone’s words ran around Sam’s mind.
I want you back in the field.
“Sam?” said Stone, loud enough to break through his mental fog.
“We need you, now.”
Sam studied Stone’s face, looking for any sign that he was joking. But his features were implacable.
“You can’t be serious. I don’t even know who I am.”
“I know this is overwhelming. But you’ll be back to your old self in no time.”
Sam almost choked. Was this guy for real? He seemed to be on a different planet. How could he expect Sam to function in the field – even if he’d wanted to work for the intelligence services again?
Stone leaned forward on the Formica table.
“Sam, even at fifty percent you’re better than most JIS intelligence agents.”
Sam shook his head. This wasn’t making sense. It wasn’t making sense at all. Maybe he had worked for MI5 or whatever they were called now. After everything that had happened to him in the last day and a half it seemed plausible – and maybe he had been captured by the Chinese. But the value Stone was placing on Sam was way over the top. Intelligence agents were expendable, weren’t they? One man just wasn’t worth this much effort.
“Why me?” he said.
“I’ve told you, Sam…”
“I know what you said,” interrupted Sam. “But frankly that’s bullshit. Why do you really need me instead of any of a score of other agents?”
Stone sat back.
“I’m going to send the nurse back in to give you something to sleep for a couple of hours. You need the rest. And then I’ll be back. And then there really will be no time for delay, Sam.”
Sam watched Stone leave – and heard him lock the door on the way out. He was alone again.
***
Ten minutes later Sam was still sitting at the table. He ran his hand through his hair. So he was a spy, apparently a very good one. So good the chief spook needed him, and only him, back at work right now, just hours after a ten-year spell in a Chinese prison. But he hadn’t been good enough to avoid getting caught in the first place. And the cherry on the cake – what made Sam really special? He’d lost his memory. He didn’t know where he lived, whether he had a family. Shit, he didn’t even know whether he took his coffee white or black. How the fuck could he go back to work? And why would Stone, obviously no man’s fool, want him to? There was no way any of this added up. Especially that bullshit about him being the best agent JIS had. He might have been good – but not now. So what was Stone not telling him?
Sam got up, walked over to the mirror and stared at his reflection.
What did he know? Stone had desperately wanted Sam back in the UK – enough to give up three MSS intelligence officers. And he’d wanted him back in the field before it made even the remotest kind of sense. For what? There was only one answer.
Something big must be about to happen.
Seconds later the fat nurse came in to give Sam another injection, but this time he wasn’t having any of it.
Chapter 10
Sam hadn’t got any sleep. Stone must have known because he was back within thirty minutes. Sam was sitting at the Formica table waiting for him. His mind made up. He waited for Stone to sit down opposite him before he spoke.
“I want to see Suzie.”
Stone grimaced. “Sam, we’ve been through this.”
“I know.”
“I thought we’d agreed it’s better you don’t see her. Why have you changed your mind?”
He considered saying he didn’t trust Stone. That he knew he was hiding something. And that he didn’t believe what Stone had said about Suzie.
“I just want to make sure she’s really okay.”
“Sam, you have to trust me on this. Suzie is fine. She’s receiving the best care. But you two cannot meet. It would be dangerous for her. If you’re concerned about her safety, if you want to protect her, the best thing you can do is to leave her alone.”
Sam didn’t answer. Part of him knew Stone was lying.
“Sam. I admire your concern for this girl but you have to think about matters of national security now. Threats to tens of thousands of people. Not just one.”
Sam was sure now. Although Stone’s voice was still strong, his cheeks were a little more flushed, and his pupils had dilated fractionally. Plus Sam was picking up something else. A kind of sense that Stone was lying.
“I want to see her.”
“Hear me out and I’ll see what I can do.”
Sam opened his mouth. Stone interrupted.
“Take it, Sam, it’s the best offer you’re going to get.”
He was right. Stone still had all the cards. Sam would hear him out but then he was seeing Suzie.
“Okay, okay, what have you got to tell me that’s so important?”
***
“Sam, we have reason to believe there will be a terror attack in London at 8 p.m. tonight.” Stone checked his watch. “In exactly nine hours. And I need you to stop it.”
Sam stared at him. He had to be taking the piss. But this time, there was no sign he was lying – his pupils were like pinpricks.
“Shouldn’t you be looking for the terrorists rather than talking to me?”
“I have a team doing exactly that right now, Sam. But even if they’re successful, I’ll need you.”
Stone shoved a new file over the table.
“Read that.”
Sam looked at the plain manila file for a second then flipped it open. The first page described an ISIS-inspired terror group called New Dawn. There were details about their previous attacks. In the last two months alone they’d hit Leicester Square, Piccadilly Circus, Marylebone and St. Pancras . Not government buildings but crowded tourist spots, where the civilian body count would be highest.
The next few pages were full of pictures of Leicester Square. Sam knew Leicester Square. He couldn’t remember going there, but if he closed his eyes he could picture it. Four or five large trees dominated the centre, surrounded by a collection of cinemas, restaurants and fast food joints. It was a tourist Mecca, always bustling with cinema-goers, people eating in one of the Italian bistros, or on their way to Chinatown a few minutes away. The pictures in front of Sam looked nothing like that. The square was cordoned off with red-and-white striped tape. One of the trees in the centre of the square was on its side. There were police and paramedics everywhere. Outside the Odeon cinema six dirty sheets covered bodies. Another five pages o
f horror-show pictures told a similar story. As did photographs in the rest of the file taken in Piccadilly Circus, Marylebone and St. Pancras .
“New Dawn,” said Stone, tapping the file, “is a new ISIS splinter group. They’ve detonated four bombs in Central London, killing hundreds. Each one has been larger than the previous, and they tell us the next one will be the worst yet.”
Sam stared at the images. Could this group be negotiated with? If they were Islamic extremists it was unlikely, but things might have changed in the ten years he’d been away.
“What do they want?” he said after a long moment.
“They don’t want anything other than to destroy our way of life.”
Sam looked at the pictures and back at Stone. Fair enough – Stone was desperate. But Sam couldn’t let this charade go on any longer.
“I still don’t understand why you need me. Even if I accept I’m a spook you’ve said yourself I’ve been out of action for almost ten years. You must have scores of good people you could use who haven’t just got back from a Chinese prison.”
“You were, and I mean this sincerely, Sam, the most gifted officer I’ve had the pleasure of working with.”
Sam frowned. “I thought you were going to cut the crap, Stone.”
Stone blew out a breath and sat back in his chair studying Sam.
“Okay, Sam,” he said finally, raising his hands palms forward. “Let me put my cards on the table. You were a good intelligence officer. But that’s not why I bent over backwards to get you out of Beijing.”
At last we’re getting somewhere. Sam stared at Stone, still trying to get the measure of him. There was no sign of the twitch he’d noticed earlier. Right now Stone’s face was impassive – a blank poker face which gave nothing away, probably perfected over years working for MI5.
“So why?”
“You’re unique.”
Sam laughed. More bullshit.
“Hear me out,” said Stone. “I know it may be hard for you to appreciate right now, but you and I know each other very well, Sam. When you disappeared I lost a good friend as well as a valuable colleague.”