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

by Clark, Nicholas P

  “Just remember, Jack, the mad men eventually get their way. It is up to you to make sure that they don’t get everything that they want. Denying them total victory may be the only thing that we can do by way of a response, and we must be ready to act. Always.”

  “You know how to get in touch with me,” Jack said.

  Jack never thought for one moment that as he walked away from the Range Rover it would be such a long time before he would speak to Deeley again. Nor did he imagine that the mad men of whom he so passionately spoke had been all around him on that weekend. They had decided that Jack would never be one of them. A useful foot soldier perhaps, given the right set of circumstances, but a co-conspirator? That would never happen. As long as there was that possibility that he might be of some use to them, no matter how minor that role was, Jack was safe, but the moment he posed a threat to them, he was a marked man.

  He eventually got to that bottle of Scotch, but release from the pain of losing Alexa was not found at the bottom of the bottle. He would not give up on her. Not ever. She was his reward for the life he had given over to the protection of others; she was his soul mate; she

  was his only reason for carrying on in the service—that through his work there was the hope that one day their paths would once again cross, and when that day came he would never let her go again.

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  21

  No Turning Back

  The exploding factory, as remote as it was, was soon witnessed, and news quickly madeit through to the city. Thethought that Deeley was dead and cremated filled Jack with a morbid contentment. It would take some explaining when he got back to London to make certain that he didn’t spend the rest of his life behind bars, but in that moment he felt remarkably upbeat about meeting that challenge. The mild euphoria vanished when they joined a long queue of traffic on the road into the city. Jack edged forwards nervously as the cars in front of him permitted. Traffic chaos was not unusual for the city—gang violence and terrorist attacks often brought much of the metropolis to a stand-still, and to begin with Jack didn’t even consider what had just happened at the chemical plant as the reason for the long line of cars stretched out before him. Police cars and unmarked cars of an official disposition drove past on the hard shoulder unimpeded.

  As they drew closer towards the cause of the hold-up Jack was at once alarmed. He looked over his shoulder nervously in an attempt to find a way of avoiding the police checkpoint ahead. Barry grabbed Jack’s arm firmly and he smiled.

  “Turn around now and we will be stopped and brought in for questioning,” Barry said. “Trust me, I have been in this position many times before. As have you, Jack. They will either arrest us or let us through. Either way, our fate is now beyond our control. Calm yourself down and stop looking so damn guilty.”

  Barry released Jack’s arm. As much as he hated to admit it, Barry was right. There was nothing that he could do, though that didn’t help calm the real concern racing around inside his head that if they didn’t get back to the embassy quickly to receive treatment, they would all be dead.

  As they drew closer towards the check-point a police officer with an automatic rifle approached them. He ignored the other cars in the line and his focus was fixed on the three fugitives. The officer raised the barrel of his weapon slowly and Jack placed a hand on the gun that was tucked into his waistband.

  “Don’t do it Jack,” Barry said. “Just wait.” The policeman pointed with his weapon that Jack should pull the car onto the hard shoulder. Jack slowly complied. The officer turned to the men at the checkpoint and he signalled to them. He then indicated that Jack should drive on. Jack was certain that the policemen at the checkpoint were going to instruct him to pull over, but as the car got closer one of the officers waved him on through. Jack looked at Barry with confusion.

  “You have to learn to relax, Jack,” Barry said, then added. “And when you are stealing a car it is always a good idea to steal one with diplomatic plates.”

  Barry grinned widely.

  “You could have bloody told me,” Jack snapped. “And

  spoil the fun?” replied Barry.

  Jack gunned the car in case the policemen changed their minds.

  The high speed also distracted him and alleviated the urge to pull out his gun and put a bullet in one of Barry’s legs. Ahead of the checkpoint the traffic was a lot lighter than usual and that helped them to make up some of the time that had been lost. When they got to the embassy and located the safe containing the medicine they all realised that they had not made up enough time. The safe was already open.

  There was only one person who knew about the medicine. One person who could not have been there ahead of them, yet the evidence was clear and they all reached the same conclusion at once. Deeley was still alive.

  “How in the holy hell did that bastard escape?” Barry said, with mild anger.

  “That bastard has spent his whole life preparing for the worst case scenarios,” Jack added.

  As the two men fumed over Deeley and his duplicity Alexa went up to the safe. She searched for a short time before turning to face them with a broad grin.

  “What’s with you?” Barry asked.

  She threw him a syringe.

  “Looks like Deeley isn’t a complete bastard after all,” she said.

  Barry looked at the syringe filled with a colourless liquid with understandable suspicion. He handed it to Jack.

  “I’ll be damned if I’m going first,” Barry said. “Christ alone knows what he’s put in there.”

  Jack looked annoyed for a moment. They were out of options. He rolled up his sleeve and stuck the needle into his left arm, depressing the plunger as he did so that he could not change his mind. Barry looked at him for a few moments. If it was filled with poison then it wasn’t fast acting.

  “You’re next,” said Alexa.

  She threw a syringe to Barry. Slowly Barry medicated himself. His eyes kept flicking between Jack and the needle. Too late—the liquid was in his veins and coursing through his body. The men turned to Alexa.

  “Now that the guinea pigs have gone first, it’s your turn,” Jack said to her.

  She smiled.

  “What are you waiting for, love?” Barry asked.

  A pause.

  “Then again,” she began, “maybe he is a complete bastard after all.”

  The remark completely perplexed both men for a moment, but as Jack shifted his gaze down to her empty hands the reality hit home. He rushed over to her and grasped her in a frantic embrace.

  “My god. What have you done?” Jack asked. “What have you done?” a second time; his voice breaking under a simmering grief.

  “What I had to do,” she said. “You have to stop him Jack. You are the only one who can.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Barry asked.

  Jack broke away from the embrace and he spun around to face Barry with anger on his face and frustration in his voice.

  “Deeley only left us with two treatments,” Jack said. “The bastard only left two treatments.”

  Barry backed down once the truth had been revealed to him.

  “Jack,” Alexa said, calmly but with determination. “You have to get out of here now and stop him before he leaves the country. If he gets away then he could end up killing millions. Barry can take me to the nearest hospital.”

  “No, Barry can go to the airport. I will take you to the hospital,” Jack protested.

  She smiled at him with understanding. “You

  know it has to be you, Jack,” she said.

  He prepared to protest but he knew that she was correct. Barry had proved himself time and again but he was no secret agent. Barry knew how to shoot his way into a place or how to blow somewhere to bits with a bomb, but when it came to the subtle instincts of the profession, he was utterly useless. Jack hugged her one last time.

  “I will be back for you later,” Jack said.

  “And I intend to hold you to that,” she sa
id, with a smile.

  They kissed and then Jack left the room. With thoughts of that sweet kiss and the deadly situation she was now facing at the forefront of his mind, the rest of his body shifted into autopilot as he made his way through the embassy, and then into the car. He was almost at the airport before the sharply focused man of action who he needed to be finally took control.

  The entire airport was ringed by army vehicles and personnel. Jack hoped that a mixture of blatant brass neck and the diplomatic plates on the car would get him inside. He was out of luck. The soldier who stopped him instantly ordered Jack out of the car.

  “I am a diplomat,” Jack said. “I must get inside the airport immediately.”

  The soldier looked completely unimpressed.

  “Sir,” called the soldier.

  Jack felt all hope drain away as the unmistakable hulk of General Utta Embeke lumbered towards him.

  “What can I do for you?” asked the General. “I

  need to get inside,” Jack said, hopefully.

  “Why?” snapped the General.

  “There is a very dangerous man, from the UK, who is trying to flee the country. I need to stop him or millions of people will die.”

  The General didn’t respond.

  “Look, sir,” Jack pleaded. “I know that you know who I really am. Do you think that I would break cover on purpose if I wasn’t desperate? Do you know who I am?”

  “Of course,” said the General. “And I don’t care. You are not getting in. And besides. You are too late.”

  The General looked skyward. Jack turned his gaze on where the General was looking to see a small private jet rise into the sky.

  “You must get them to turn back,” Jack insisted.

  “I am afraid that will not be possible,” said the General, firmly.

  “But...” Jack began.

  “The plane has been hijacked,” explained the General.

  “Huh,” replied Jack.

  “By men who claim that they are going to crash it into the city.”

  “But...”

  “We can’t let that happen,” said the General.

  The military man’s eyes briefly landed on a vehicle a short distance away. Jack looked at the vehicle and alarm seized him. It was a military jeep armed with a battery of missiles.

  “No, I need him alive,” Jack said, with some force. “We

  do not negotiate with terrorists,” said the General.

  As the words left his mouth a small missile screamed its way up into the sky. The landing gear from the plane was in the process of closing when the explosion occurred. The fireball was emphatic. Jack

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  watched at first with horror, and then with concern—he expected to see a parachute open as Deeley floated to the ground and into a waiting car. That did not happen. The man who had made so many plans had not reckoned on the anger of a father.

  “Justice has now been done,” said the General. “Leave this place now before I decide to have a little more justice served up.”

  Jack didn’t need to be told twice. He jumped into the car and drove off with a cloud of dust marking where his car had once been. He drove at high speed to the General Hospital closest to the embassy. The journey took less than twenty minutes but it seemed to last for hours. The two receptionists at the front desk were a shade alarmed when a frantic Jack approached them demanding information.

  “I’m looking for a man and a women who came in a short time ago,” he said.

  The nurses looked at one another.

  “I am sorry sir but we haven’t had any admissions in the last hour. The hospital has been placed on alert. There was an explosion at a chemical plant, or something. No casualties have arrived.”

  “No, they would have walked in. They were not suffering from any injuries. Please, can you check for me?” he pleaded.

  The nurses were very helpful and they called the head of security at the hospital. Jack and the security head spent almost an hour viewing video footage. There was no sign of Barry and Alexa. He was directed to another hospital. Nothing. Barry and Alexa had not been there either. Then another, and another. Each time he ran into a dead end and each time he grew a little more anxious. There was no way that Barry and Alexa would not have sought medical attention immediately unless something had gone seriously wrong. No matter what resentment or hatred Barry still harboured towards Jack, he was certain that the Irishman was honourable enough not to cause her deliberate harm in an effort to get back at Jack. He hoped as much at any rate. The longer the search continued the more confused and desperate Jack became until ultimately he reached a heartbreaking conclusion—wherever they where, and however they got there, they were now beyond his reach.

  For the next three weeks Jack searched the country in the hope

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  that someone somewhere might know something. But from the British Embassy and the surrounding streets, to as many of the most remote towns and villages that he could get to, no one had laid eyes on them. It was as if they had vanished into thin air the moment Jack left them in the room at the embassy.

  Reluctantly, and under the threat of force being used against him, Jack gave in to the repeated orders from London for him to return back to the UK. As Jack sat at the airport waiting from someone from the service to escort him to his flight he did something that he hadn’t done in a long time—a little spot of people watching. He worked in a profession where human nature and how people ticked was all important, but he was so focused on his assigned missions in recent years he rarely got a chance to simply sit back and look at people—everyday people, with real lives and real emotions. The best place to see all humanity at its best and at its worst was at a busy airport—loved ones parting through tears and promises to get in touch as soon as they reached their destination, to the serpentine smirk of a ruthless businessman making his way home from a kill, or flying out to a kill. Then of course there were men and women like him. At any one time there was bound to be someone from the secret community in which he lived skulking around any airport in the world—they were mainly from the country in which the airport was located, there to keep an eye on the foreign guests who were not altogether honest about the reasons they gave at passport control for being in the country.

  As he sat on the hard plastic seat by the side of the large departure lounge Jack began to scan the faces of those around him—spies always had a certain look about them; an intensity behind the eyes that could be mistaken for disinterest by those who were not in the know. And then there was the body language; it was calm and relaxed, a dead giveaway at an airport—even the most seasoned flyer still harboured thoughts of what if before they climbed onto a plane; the thought of the security checks; were the tickets still in their jacket pocket or handbag—airports were places of high stress, and anyone strutting around without a care in the world was obviously hiding something.

  Quickly he had ruled out most of the faces in the crowd—security staff and other airport workers; couples with children; the very old and the very young. He was taught never to rule anyone out but the reality of a situation, especially one involving a large crowd, meant that the unlikely suspects had to be put to one side—to begin with. In Jack’s view the best person to get away with being a spy would be either a six year old girl or a ninety year old woman—there were few female spies, and age was all important. And so his attention moved on to what was left—still a right sized crowd, but manageable. Within minutes he had found his first credible suspect—an Asian man in his forties. He was dressed in a grey business suit and carrying a black briefcase. The man was sitting fifty yards from Jack, and it was the fact that he was sitting, and still holding on to the case that caught Jack’s interest in the first place. In the other hand the man was holding onto a newspaper, folded neatly into a quarter. Jack watched the man for almost ten minutes and he never once moved the paper—he was either really interested in the article that he was looking at or he was very slow at reading. The
man looked up constantly, his eyes shifting from person to person, checking for danger or searching out a contact. Jack smiled.

  The smiled quickly vanished when Jack locked eyes with a young woman who sat down across from him. She would not have made it onto his list of suspects had it not been for the fact that he caught her looking in his direction. She did not immediately look away. There was something about her that he recognised—it was something of himself, and that is why he pegged her for a spy. Was she there on behalf of the South Africans just to make sure that he got on the plane? Were they so concerned by all the questions he was asking that they needed one more level of security on top of the official security, and the reassurances from the British government that Jack’s time in the country was now at an end? Those thoughts annoyed him and when the young woman got up, walked across to Jack, and sat down, Jack was less than impressed. He was exasperated. It was all part of the game, he told himself, before a further internal reminder that he should remain calm.

  “You are going to think that I am mad, but do I know you from somewhere?” asked the young woman, in an almost too perfect English accent.

  The penny dropped. It wasn’t the South Africans who wanted to make certain that he got onto that plane as planned, it was his own side. “There is every possibility that you do,” Jack replied, trying to keep his annoyance in check.

  The young woman waited for more and eventually Jack relented. He didn’t much feel like playing that particular game with the sting of losing Alexa so fresh in his mind, but his troubles were not the fault of the innocent creature sat beside him, playing the game as badly as he once played it, a long time in the past. His paternal instincts kicked in and he gave her a break.