Deadly States (Seaforth Files by Nicholas P Clark Book 2)

by Clark, Nicholas P

  alarm.

  There followed two high-pitched blasts of air—the unmistakable

  sound of shots being fired through a silencer. The thud from the Ambassador’s lifeless body as it hit the ground confirmed Jack’s assessment. Jack rushed to the side of the room. The large widows were

  not locked and within seconds Jack was outside the building. The car

  called for by the Ambassador approached. Jack calmly walked out in

  front of the vehicle. He walked around to the driver’s side. He opened

  the door, punched the driver hard in the face, before pulling his unconscious body out of the vehicle. Jack picked up the driver’s cap, got

  into the car, and then he drove around to the back of the building to

  wait for Deeley.

  A rather anxious looking Deeley jumped into the back of the car. “The chemical plant,” Deeley instructed.

  Jack said nothing as he put the car into gear and they pulled away

  from the back of the embassy. As a guard at the front gate waved

  Jack through onto the public road at the front of the complex, several

  points of concern entered Jack’s mind. Chief among those thoughts

  was the actual destination Deeley was referring to. The only chemical

  plant that Jack knew of was the abandoned plant where he had been

  interrogated. When he had been taken there he was not exactly concerned with making a mental map for future reference, but rather he

  was preoccupied with how he was going to stay alive.

  As he drovealong the streets of the city in the direction of the inter

  160 city highway, Jack kept a cautious eye on the rear view mirror for any signs that Deeley was finding the route Jack had selected as being in any way strange. As the journey progressed Jack grew more confident as more of the roadside features became familiar to him. As they drove further from the city major signs of human civilisation grew less, and that made it easier to navigate as the urban clutter was stripped away. Soon the ominous dark outline of the chemical plant came into view. Jack drove off the main highway with a speed which spoke of how he was on an important mission, but not so fast as to appear desperate, and certainly not so fast as to elevate the suspicions of the man who he would soon kill. For his part Deeley remained very calm and completely silent. His mind was clearly somewhere else and for that Jack was grateful. Deeley had not looked at Jack properly from the moment he got into the car. The dirt that his clothing and skin had picked up when he entered the complex through the hole was still clearly visible. That in itself should have been enough to give Deeley a sign that something was not quite right. Deeley noticed nothing.

  There were several cars parked close to the entrance of the laboratory where Robert had interrogated Jack earlier and Jack assumed that was where Deeley would want to be. As he brought the car to a stop Deeley said nothing. A door to the corridor beside the lab opened and Barry stepped out. He was carrying an AK47 . Jack turned his head away from Barry as Deeley got out of the car.

  “Don’t wait for me,” Deeley said to Jack, and then he closed the door.

  Jack continued to look away from Barry as he pulled clear from the front of the building. As he drove back towards the main highway Jack stole a few fervent glances in the rear view mirror. He saw Barry and Deeley head into the building but he did not focus on their faces for long enough to judge what kind of mood either man was in. Jack calmly pulled off onto the highway and he drove back towards the city at a steady speed. About a mile from the chemical plant he pulled off the road and then he killed the engine. As he sat by the side of the road his mind turned to the meeting with Deeley and Barry. As bedfellows went the pairing perhaps wasn’t so strange; but one thing Jack could be certain of, with the pair of them working together, whatever they were planning was going to mean a lot of trouble for a lot of people,

  161 and Jack would be counted amongst that unfortunate number. There was no doubt that one, or both of them would at some stage betray the other; that was their nature, but would that critical turning point arrive before they put a bullet in Jack’s head, or would they both have the good sense to wait until after Jack was dead? It was a question that he did not have time to dwell upon.

  That he had to return to the chemical plant was not in question, but taking the car or going on foot did have to be weighed up carefully. The car would provide him with a quick getaway should the worst happen, but the car would be spotted long before he made it to the plant. On foot would take time and he would not have an escape vehicle, but assuming he did make it in and out again alive then stealing one of the vehicles already parked at the plant would not have posed much of an obstacle. After a few minutes of silent debate Jack decided to take the middle road; he would drive the car slowly, with the lights off, to within half a mile of the entrance to the chemical plant, then walk the rest of the way. He wasn’t as young or as fit as he once was, but he felt confident that he could keep up a decent sprint from the complex to the car whenever the mission was concluded; he was confident enough to bet his life on it.

  As he placed a hand on the key in the transmission the headlights of a car in the distance came into view. Jack paused to give the car time to pass before he turned his car on. Although the lights of the approaching car were

  landscape. The dying

  on, there was still a dull twilight bathing the African light was much shorter than twilight

  back in the UK and Jack knew the country well enough to know that within minutes proper darkness would fall like a stage curtain. The approaching car was driving suspiciously slowly. Jack slid down into the seat as the car drove past. The car did not slow down as it passed; it maintained the constant, sober pace. It was a black BMW. It was being driven by a burley looking man in a dark suit. Jack gleamed all of this information as he tried to conceal himself from the occupants of the passing car. With so much information to process in that brief moment the BMW was long gone before Jack processed the last, most important, most surprising piece of information. It hit him with such unexpected clarity that for a moment he dismissed it as a delusion; brought on by exhaustion or the unending pressure of that day. As his

  162 mind replayed the passing car again and again he came to the same conclusion. It was her. It really was. In a life of lies and death and ceaseless anxiety she had been his one tiny ray of hope. She had come into his life at a time when he had resigned himself to the fact that this world was an evil, unscrupulous, demonic beast, and the best that he could ever hope for was to survive it and give others such as himself the opportunity to do the same. She was an angel. She was grace. His redemption and his downfall. And now, at that time, in that place, she was back in his life; more unexpected than the first time she had stepped onto the stage of his life.

  Absently he turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life as his foot pressed down on the accelerator with just a bit too much force. Jack didn’t care. Nor did he care when a quick release of the clutch caused the car to jerk forwards and threaten a stall. Nor did he care as he pulled onto the highway in front of a white pick-up truck, which swerved with an angry blast of its horn. Nor did he care why she was there in South Africa or why the car that she was travelling in was pulling off the road ahead of him into the chemical plant. He cared for none of it. He only cared that the one true love of his life was back long after he had given up all hope of ever laying eyes on her again. So eager was Jack to see her face at close range that he abandoned his plan to drive within half a mile of the plant. He didn’t stop until he was less than one hundred yards from the entrance of the chemical plant. When he got out of the car his legs were trembling. It was not the tremble of terror that came with the prospect of walking towards one’s possible death, but rather it was the cowardly shaking of a teenager out on a first date and in over his head.

  As the entrance to the plant neared his head was snapped back into the game as another car approached along
the highway from the city side. Jack hid behind a small billboard close to the entrance and he remained in that spot until the car had slowed down before turning into the plant. His irrational self took control; though in truth his rational self wanted to see her face up close as much as his irrational self did. That would never happen if one of the guards at the plant took him out before he made contact with her.

  The abandoned chemical plant was a growing eyesore as years of decay set in, but the neglect afforded Jack ample cover in the form of

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  abandoned machinery and overgrown vegetation. Quickly, but with great care, Jack made his way towards the door that Deeley and Barry had used a short time before, and inside two minutes he was crouching down beside the car parked closest to that door. There were now four cars parked at the front of the building, but there wasn’t a driver or a guard in sight. The twenty yards to the door would be the most dangerous. As he pondered those last few steps before he entered the unknown he couldn’t help but turn his attention to her one last time. As he did so a dagger of doubt stabbed at his heart. The woman that he fell in love with would never have taken anything to do with men like Deeley and Barry. The woman that he fell in love with promised him with solemn sincerity that she was leaving their way of life for good. The woman that he fell in love with would never lie to him. Unless... Unless she had no other choice. Beads of nervous sweat formed on Jack’s forehead as he took one last look at the door before he set off on that fateful dash towards answers.

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  14

  Forbidden Love

  East Berlin, December 1989

  His mission in Moscow had been an utter failure. No matter how hard he tried to put some kind of positive spin on it as he lay on the bed of his hotel room looking up at the yellowing ceiling, he could find no comfort. That he didn’t know what had really gone on in Moscow somehow made it all seem worse. Jack hoped that greed would be at the bottom of his misfortune as the last thing he or any other agent would have wanted was to be dubbed the man who let a nuclear bomb fall into the hands of a maniac. The Irish may not have been ruthless enough to unleash the power of an atom bomb in an English city, but the same could not be said of all terror groups, or indeed many terror states, or those with aspirations to become great through terror. That was the nightmare scenario that his commanders had been preaching on ever since the Soviet Union went into meltdown. There was some very credible evidence coming into London that suggested that it was not only the usual suspects such as Iran and Iraq who were making their intentions to pick up a fully functioning nuke know, but there were some well funded groups working out of moderate Islamic states who were also trying to gain power through the atom.

  Thirst finally got the better of Jackand herebelledagainst the leth

  argy that was keeping him pinned to the bed. The only familiar drink in the mini bar of his room was a can of Coca Cola. Under normal circumstances he would never have touched the stuff, but in that foreign place he needed something familiar. He opened the can and downed two large mouthfuls as he walked across the grey and brown carpet to the small balcony at the side of his room. The blast of ice cold wind cut through the shirt that he was wearing as he opened the doors and stepped out onto the balcony. On the street below two drunken Red Army soldiers staggered past the hotel. They were laughing loudly at a shared joke—they were either coming off duty, or, more likely in those confused and undisciplined times, they were going on duty.

  As Jack gazed out across the city it looked old, ancient, wise and proud. But like everything else in East Berlin that eternal impression was false. The Second World War had reduced most of the ancient buildings to rubble and the city that was spread out before him was a modern day replica of that once proud past. The occupying Soviets were not that bothered about German history as they rebuilt most of the city in grey concrete; the style and livery of modern mother Russia. The restored classic façades, such as they were, served civic and religious roles. It was almost as if the Soviet re-building was entirely by design—never forget who you were, people of Berlin; you suffer because of your brutal history. And, never forget who you are now, forced comrades in an empire that outlived Hitler’s thousand year Reich by over half a century. Berlin was very much a city that was fenced in by its own history and that sense of oppression touched residents and visitors alike. Jack was no different and he couldn’t wait until the order came through for him to return back to headquarters, even if he did receive a right bollocking when he got there.

  As the cold got the better of him and his body began to tremble, Jack stepped back into the room and he closed the large glass doors. It was as the doors clicked shut that he noticed her. She was reflected in the dirty glass of the door closest to him. Jack continued to face the city as if taken in completely by the view. This gave him a few moments to think. His gun was under one of the pillows. There was nothing close enough to him that he could turn into a weapon. Whoever she was and why she had come to his room was a mystery, but the fact that she was in control of the situation was not in doubt. His view of

  166 her may have been restricted but he could clearly see the small, silver coloured gun in her right hand that was pointing in his direction. His first thought was that she was an assassin. Perhaps he had been allowed to live back in Moscow so that they could follow him? Why would they kill one spy when they could let that spy lead them to others? Whatever her reason for dropping in on him, Jack knew that he couldn’t simply look out of the window for the rest of the night in the hope that she would get bored and leave him in peace. That a sharp pain from a hot bullet as it passed through his body from the back had not happened gave him a little comfort. He searched frantically for a non-lethal way to end the deadlock. Nothing presented itself to him. Eventually the situation was taken out of his hands completely.

  “Please take a seat on the bed,” said the woman.

  Her accent was familiar, yet somehow completely out of place. “I am here to help you Jack. And in turn, if you believe what I have

  to say, I hope that you will also help me,” she added. Jack turned around slowly to face her. She was wearing a long black winter coat and tall snow boots over blue jeans. Her shocking red hair was more a stylishly tangled mess than it was curly. Her blue eyes penetrated Jack’s soul and effortlessly cut through much of the pretence that surrounded him. To the entire world she looked like a Russian or German, if an exceptional looking one, but that voice rubbed awkwardly against that perception.

  “Now please, take a seat on the bed and give me a chance to explain why I need your help,” she continued.

  Jack sighed.

  “I honestly can’t see any of that happening,” Jack said. “Not while you have that gun pointed at me. If you really do need my help then you need to put the gun down.”

  She smiled warmly.

  “I can’t blame you for trying Jack, but you know that there is no chance that I will put the gun away.”

  Using the distraction of the argument as cover Jack gave the impression that he had conceded to her demands by walking towards the bed. He was moving in the direction of his hidden weapon.

  “Stop!” she commanded.

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  She reinforced the command by raising her weapon a little higher. Jack obeyed. She moved to the head of the bed. A quick search under the first pillow revealed nothing. Jack looked very uncomfortable when she pulled his gun out from under the second pillow.

  “So much for trust, Jack,” she added, shaking her head. “Trust is a two way process,” Jack replied.

  “Once you have listened to what I have to say I will give you

  your gun back. What happens from that point on will be up to you. Agreed?” Jack nodded to confirm his agreement and then he took a seat on the edge of the bed. The woman rocked to and fro nervously as she prepared to explain herself. She knew who Jack was and she knew that he would not be an easy man to win over. Jack was patient with her as there was something about the look
on her face which told of how she was more sincere than most of the individuals who he encountered. “Clearly I know who you are Jack. And I know why you are here. I know that you have been assessing the situation in Russia, but I want to tell you a little about those things that you didn’t find out whileyou were in Moscow.”

  “You could start by telling me the name of the bastard who knocked me out and kept me sedated for days. I am still recovering from that wee episode,” Jack said, bitterly.

  “I do not know which individual was personally involved in those actions, but I do know a little about the group who they are working for.”

  “I suppose that will have to do.” “First let me introduce myself. I am Alexa Shein. I am a Mossad agent.”

  “That would explain your accent. Though without sounding racist, you don’t exactly fit with the popular idea of a Middle Eastern Jew.” “That is the exact reason why they picked me for this assignment. I can blend in more easily than some of our other agents. My family was from Germany. They bought their way to freedom before the Nazis unleashed hell on our people. I have some relatives still living in Germany. They returned to their homeland once the war was over.”

  The heartfelt explanation was delivered in a very natural way but as

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  she settled into the second part of her story her demeanour changed. It was almost as if she was ashamed. “It is the events of the war that not only brought my family to Israel, but they have also brought me here to you today.”

  Jack sighed.

  “If this is some hunt for long lost Jewish gold, or a modern Nazi conspiracy, then I’m afraid I don’t have time. My agency has wasted many thousands of man-hours looking into such claims and we neither have the time nor the resources to continue with it. The war was terrible. Your people suffered in an unimaginable way. We should never forget what happened but the world has moved on. We have to focus on the next Hitler and spend less time dwelling on the ghosts of the past. I’m sorry if that seems blunt.”