by Mark McKay
‘Certainly looks like you,’ he said.
‘Nick Severance, from the CDS. As requested, all the way from India.’
‘Do you have a gift for me?’
‘Only the gift of my presence.’
Max laughed. ‘Good. Glad we’ve got that out of the way. Let me get you something to drink.’
‘Water’s fine.’
‘Yes, but not this water. It makes you sleepy. I’ll get something less soporific.’
Max left the balcony. He returned a minute later with a new bottle.
‘Untainted,’ he pronounced. He demonstrated his sincerity by pouring a glass and downing the contents.
‘So,’ said Nick, filling his own glass. ‘My instructions were to meet you and drive you somewhere safe. Mind telling me what prompted this request?’
‘Ah. Day before yesterday, I had visitors. Asking about things they shouldn’t know about. When I said I didn’t know about them either, they got obnoxious. Began threatening me.’
‘Where are they now?’
‘They came in a hire car. That night I drove them to a secluded spot further south of here and left them there.’
‘And they were quite agreeable about all this?’
‘They were beyond caring at the time. It took me bloody ages just to get them both in the car.’
‘I take it they’d been drinking your water, then?’
Max smiled. ‘Yes.’ He produced the gun from its table holster. ‘Then I shot them with this.’
Nick raised his eyes. ‘How did you get back?’
‘It was the middle of the night when I left them. I walked for several hours until I got to a main road. Then I got a bus the rest of the way. First bus that morning, actually.’
‘Are you going to tell me what it was they were so interested in knowing, or will I suffer the same fate?’
Max put the gun on the table and leaned back in his chair. ‘Where’s this “somewhere safe”, then?’
‘Germany.’
‘Not Bonn or Berlin, I hope.’
‘No, it’s down south. Heidelberg.’
Max sighed. ‘We should leave soon, I think. Wonder if Germany is the best destination. I’m sure my two visitors were German.’ He shrugged. ‘Anywhere is better than here, now.’
‘Next flight to Athens isn’t till this afternoon,’ said Nick.
‘OK. Tell you what. You look pretty beat. Just relax for a while, then we’ll have lunch and go to the airport. Once we’re on the road to Heidelberg there’ll be plenty of time to tell you all about my little problem.’
Max was already packed. After lunch he spent some time shutting up the villa and then pronounced himself ready to depart.
‘I told Dimitri that I’d be away for a while, on business. He’ll keep an eye on the place.’
‘Who’s Dimitri?’
‘He owns the olive grove.’ Max took a last look at the villa. He seemed loath to leave it. ‘Ten good undisturbed years,’ he muttered. ‘OK, let’s go.’
They slung his two cases in the boot and started for the airport. It was only once they were on the main road that Nick noticed the gun. Max was casually holding it in his lap as his eyes swept the landscape all around them.
‘You can’t take that on the plane you know,’ said Nick.
‘I’ve no intention of taking it on the plane. I’ll dump it at the airport.’
They reached the airport without incident. Max said he’d take a quick look around the terminal building while Nick returned the car. Once that was done, he met Max at the terminal entrance.
‘All seems quiet enough,’ said Max.
‘Where’s the gun?’
‘I wrapped it up and stuffed it in under a bush in the car park. I’ll pick it up on the way back.’
As the flight to Athens was a domestic one, there were no queues to contend with at the check-in desk. They made their way through to departures with plenty of time to spare before boarding. Both men were more than usually attentive to what was going on around them and Nick could feel the tension emanating from Max. Whatever his two visitors had been after, it had clearly unsettled him. Nick examined their fellow passengers, who all looked harmless enough. Looks of course, could be deceptive. He would feel more comfortable once they had reached Athens and got the car sorted out. That form of transport offered some privacy, at least.
Once in Athens, they took a taxi to the address Nick had been given. The door was partially opened by a thickset, middle-aged man; dark-eyed and olive-skinned. He took a long look at them before opening it fully.
‘Nektarios?’ asked Nick. The man nodded. ‘You’re expecting us, I hope. Nick and Max.’
‘Come in.’ He led them into a lounge area. ‘Want a drink?’
‘No, thanks. We shouldn’t stay long. You have what I asked for?’
‘Sure. Car keys on the table. It’s a Mercedes C class, parked around the corner. I’ll show you in a minute.’
Nektarios disappeared into the next room, a kitchen. He came back with a small backpack.
‘Two automatic handguns and 500 rounds of ammunition,’ he pronounced, placing the backpack on the table.
Nick looked inside. The guns were Sig Sauers; small enough to conceal on the person, but with plenty of stopping power. There were shoulder-holsters in the pack, too. He took one of the guns out and handed it to Max.
‘You comfortable with one of these?’
Max felt the weight of the gun in his hand. ‘I daresay I’ll manage,’ he answered, with a brief smile.
Nektarios checked his watch. ‘My wife will be home in an hour. Sure you won’t have that drink?’
Nick was keen to move but before he could say anything, Max cut in.
‘One for the road, got any Retsina?’
Nektarios duly produced a bottle and they sat for a while, drinking. A handful of words were exchanged. Nick wondered how this tough-looking Greek was connected to the Crimson Dragon Society. He seemed quite unfazed by the fact that he was meeting two strangers and providing them with weapons. Perhaps it was a common occurrence in his world.
He simply nodded when Nick thanked him. Then he took them out to the car and directed Nick towards the main road out of Athens.
‘It’s low on gas,’ was his parting remark.
Max settled back in the passenger seat, as Nick eased through the gears. He had the backpack on his lap.
‘A man of few words,’ he remarked. ‘Should we beware of Greeks bearing gifts?’
He gave the inside of the pack a thorough examination, then checked both guns. Once he was satisfied he stuffed one in the glove-box and passed the other across to Nick.
‘Loaded and safety on,’ he said. ‘Put it in the door compartment.’
They were on their way.
The route was designed to take them through countries with less rigorous border controls. The kind that meant the car wouldn’t be searched. The Schengen Agreement only made it necessary to produce an identity card when crossing most European borders. The two exceptions on the journey were Bulgaria and Romania, but the British passports would suffice at those two checkpoints. The plan for this first leg was to drive through the night and stop at Bucharest, some thirteen hours away. They should get there early tomorrow morning.
They took it in shifts, Nick driving for the first six hours. It was an opportunity to pump Max about his background and why he’d asked for help. But when questioned, Max was reluctant to speak about it, only saying that he would reveal all later. As soon as they’d crossed into Bulgaria Max took over the driving duties and Nick decided to get some sleep. When Max shook him awake several hours later, it was still dark.
‘Romanian border coming up,’ said Max.
They crossed without incident. In two hours they’d be in Bucharest. They could spend some time just relaxing and sleeping in a hotel bed, before setting off again in the afternoon.
‘I’ll drive from here,’ said Nick.
It was 4am and the road was
deserted. Until an hour later, when Nick saw headlights bearing down on him in the rear view mirror.
‘This guy’s in a hurry,’ he said.
Then the headlights were right behind them, on full beam. Nick just had time to register the barred grill on the big SUV before it slammed into the boot. He swore as the Mercedes swerved across the carriageway. He fought to bring it back under control, while Max leaned forward with a look of alarm and opened the glove-box.
‘Where the bloody hell did they come from?’ shouted Nick. The car had straightened up, but it was still on the wrong side of the road. The SUV was just alongside now and it swung into the Mercedes once more. The impact turned the Mercedes sideways, then it rolled.
It happened quickly; he didn’t know how many times the car turned over. He was aware of the safety bags activating and windows breaking. When the car rolled for the final time, coming to rest on its wheels, he was upright and conscious. The door wouldn’t open and the gun wasn’t in the compartment. He looked across at Max, who was clutching his shoulder, but otherwise seemed unharmed.
‘Lost my bloody gun,’ said Max.
The SUV had stopped, the headlights dipped now. Nick could see the dark shapes of two men walking down the road towards them. He had no doubt they were armed. If they were prepared to run him off the road, then it probably meant they weren’t interested in taking prisoners. They were about to finish the job. One man stopped about six feet away on the driver’s side, his gun pointed at Nick. His friend moved quickly around to the passenger side to cover Max.
‘Get out.’
Nick tried the door again, but it wouldn’t yield. Max’s door wasn’t jammed, so as Max opened it to step out he moved across to exit the same way.
‘Slowly, keep your hands where I can see them.’
A second later they were both out and standing alongside the battered Mercedes.
‘Hands on the roof.’
They did as they were told. The man who had been doing the talking faced them, gun levelled at their heads. Nick could just make out the shape of the other man in his peripheral vision. He was a few yards to one side, silhouetted by the SUV’s headlights.
‘We were a little too enthusiastic,’ the first man said. ‘You were just meant to pull over.’
The speaker was just a tall, dark form of a man, back-lit by the headlights.
‘What do you want?’ asked Nick. He felt a little dazed and he knew he’d be bruised later, but nothing was broken.
‘Him,’ said the man, indicating Max with the gun. ‘We are not here to kill you. We will take your friend Max and leave you here. Someone will come by in the next hour or two.’
‘Looks like they’re coming already,’ said Max. There were headlights visible behind the SUV. In half a minute they’d have company. The man covering Max swung round to look. Nick felt a hand pressing his shoulder.
‘Get down, now,’ hissed Max.
They both squatted down. The car was between them and the first gunman, and as the second man turned back Max raised the Sig Sauer and fired. The man went down without a sound.
There was a hail of fire from the first gunman, but whatever ammunition he was using didn’t penetrate car doors. Max raised the gun and fired a few rounds in his general direction through the space where the Mercedes’s windows had been. He got an answering volley, then nothing.
Nick flattened himself on the ground and looked beneath the car. He could see retreating feet. ‘He’s going for the SUV,’ he said. ‘He’s facing us.’
‘Fine,’ said Max. He moved towards the rear of the Mercedes then poked his head up briefly over the boot, to take a sighting. Before the retreating gunman could get a bead on him he ducked back down, keeping the hand holding the gun above the boot of the car. He pulled the trigger on the Sig Sauer and kept it pulled, on full automatic firing mode. A few seconds later the magazine was empty. The man hadn’t returned fire.
‘See if you can find the pack,’ whispered Max. ‘I need more ammo.’
Nick eased open the passenger door. ‘Thought you’d lost the gun,’ he said, looking through the gap he’d created. The interior light came on, but still there were no shots fired from the direction of the SUV.
‘Found it on the way out. Aren’t you glad?’
There was nothing to be seen in the foot wells at the front. He released the front passenger seat, which folded down to give him a view into the back of the car.
‘Ah, there’s my gun,’ he said. He was just able to reach it by fully extending his arm up and over the back seat. ‘We’re armed again.’
It was deathly quiet, now. The SUV hadn’t moved. The car that had been approaching had stopped, no doubt alarmed by the sound and sight of a gunfight on the highway. Its headlights could be made out if you peeked around the boot, several hundred yards away.
‘I think I hit him,’ said Max. They both stood up very slowly. Nick kept his weapon trained on the SUV. The first man was laid flat out on his back, directly in front of it.
‘I’ll check him, you take the other guy,’ said Nick.
Both men were dead. Nick went through the pockets of the one near the SUV, taking out a wallet and a phone. He saw that Max was doing likewise. He looked at the Mercedes; it was hardly in a drivable condition. The car that had stopped further back had now turned around, he could see its tail-lights receding into the night. In an hour, night would be day.
He walked back to the Mercedes and reclaimed the backpack. Then he opened the boot and took out their suitcases. Max joined him.
‘My shoulder hurts like hell,’ said Max. ‘Could be dislocated.’
Nick gave him a hard stare. ‘We’ll take the SUV as far as Bucharest. Then we’ll take the train the rest of the way. How does that sound?’
Max caught the edge to his voice. ‘Something wrong?’
‘I want to know why so many people are taking this sudden interest in you. If you won’t tell me, I might just shoot you myself.’
‘Alright,’ said Max, raising his hands in supplication. ‘Let’s get moving. I’ll tell you everything.’
They dragged both bodies to the side of the road. The Mercedes would have to stay where it was. Once everything was stowed in the boot of the SUV, they climbed in. Max found an open laptop computer on the passenger seat, still switched on.
‘This might tell us something,’ he said, as Nick started the vehicle. He steered it carefully around the Mercedes and then put his foot down.
‘Shit,’ said Max, as the SUV picked up speed. ‘This is a tracking program. They knew where to find us.’
‘Which means the Mercedes had a tracking device on it,’ replied Nick. ‘It must have been there when we left Athens.’
There was a long silence while they digested this. Then Nick spoke.
‘You promised to tell me everything. You can start right now.’
Chapter 2
Bonn, Germany. 1992
Max Blackwood had been the trade officer at the British Embassy in Bonn for two years. When the Berlin Wall came down in 1989 and Germany re-unified the following year, a program to merge the socialist East with the capitalist West began. High up the agenda was the task of privatising all previously state-owned businesses in the East. This opened up opportunities for foreign investment, and if you were a British business with a potential interest in acquiring an East German business, Max was the man to see. He would introduce you to all the right people, could even speak the language.
This ambitious privatisation program was being handled by an agency called the Treuhandanstalt. They were based in Berlin, so if you were a potential investor Max would meet you in Berlin and take you to their offices. Would even act as translator at the meetings, if required. Then afterwards if you were so inclined, he was happy to show you round the Berlin night-life. Or maybe you’d return to Bonn to attend a reception at the German Foreign Office, where you could network and drink in a relaxing environment with people from all over the world.
Ma
x, however, led a double life. As an intelligence officer with MI6 he’d been assigned to Bonn on the eve of reunification to take over as trade officer. His brief was not only to understand the motives of any British investors, but to also extend that curiosity to other foreigners showing an interest in the East. It had been described to him as ‘low-level but essential intelligence gathering’ by his boss in London.
Max duly filed his report, once a month. It listed anyone who had contacted him wanting an introduction. Who they’d talked to at the Treuhand, what they wanted to purchase in the East, and so on. As there weren’t many foreigners keen to invest it was hardly an onerous job. He was more often than not at a loose end. Then in 1992, things got more interesting.
Max had his own small office in the embassy, on the second floor. One warm summer day he stood at the open window behind his desk, staring distractedly at the view of the street below. There was a reception at the German foreign office that evening, a bunch of Japanese businessmen were being entertained. Apparently, they were thinking of relocating their electronics business in Germany from West to East. A very large electronics business. Max was wondering if he could persuade Katharina to come along and hang off his arm at short notice, when the phone rang. He turned back to the desk, and picked up.
‘Max, it’s Charlie Barton.’
Barton was his boss. He ran the German desk at MI6, in London. He was about ten years older than Max; ex-military with a no-nonsense attitude.
‘Charlie, what can I do for you?’ This was something of a surprise. Since Max had been here they’d only spoken on the phone a handful of times.
‘Are you alone, and is this line secure?’
‘Absolutely alone, and yes.’
‘Good. Now, this is a verbal instruction I’m going to give you. Nothing in writing, so listen and commit to memory. Are you ready?’
‘Sure. Go ahead.’
‘I want you to rent an apartment in Berlin. Somewhere discreet but close to the centre. Funds will be made available. Got it?’
‘Yes, how big? For how long?’