Black List

by Will Jordan

  Getting into the country without Hawkins’ knowledge had been no easy task, forcing both operatives to pull in more favours than they were owed to get onto a commercial flight under false identities. As far as he was concerned, they were both on a flight back to Langley. The illusion was unlikely to last long, especially considering the extent of his influence, but perhaps it would buy them enough time to get to the truth of this whole operation.

  A gamble. All or nothing, with little more than gut instinct to guide them.

  ‘Shift-change,’ Argento said, focussing the binoculars on a new arrival at the main entrance. ‘Looks like night security. Jesus, he looks about as happy to be here as me.’

  ‘Duly noted. But if this is your play for sympathy, forget it. You chose to be here,’ Mitchell replied, taking a sip of coffee. The temperature was falling with the onset of night, and the steaming black liquid was as useful for keeping them warm as it was for maintaining concentration.

  ‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ Argento held out a hand without taking his eyes away from the binoculars. ‘Send some of that my way, would you?’

  ‘Tastes like ass,’ she warned.

  ‘Nothing wrong with a piece of ass.’

  Mitchell duly poured him a cup and placed it in his hand. In truth, she didn’t mind his occasional grumbling about the cold or the boredom or the fact that the air vent he was sitting on was giving him cramp in his legs. Long periods of observation like this were often a test of endurance, but having another person on hand to share the load made it infinitely more bearable.

  Argento took a sip and laid the cup down on the ground by his feet. ‘You know there’s every chance they’re not even going to show, right? They’d have to be pretty goddamned stupid to try something like this.’

  She had scouted out the perimeter of the four-storey office building earlier in the day, checking for possible entry points or hidden ways in.

  A modern, well-constructed facility laid out in a rough U-shape, with a courtyard and parking area set between the two wings, it was well covered by security cameras at all angles. These very security measures had necessitated a quick withdrawal on her part, lest she draw suspicion on herself.

  Still, even a cursory glance made it plain the building was taller than those around it, making access from adjacent rooftops impossible. The only other entrance besides the front door was a loading dock at the rear, but it was securely locked down and could only be opened from inside.

  Security personnel patrolled the building at all times, with at least one in a locked panic room manning the CCTV cameras. All in all, it was a pretty airtight operation. A determined assault team could certainly breach the building, but doing so without raising an alarm would be nigh on impossible.

  ‘Stupid’s about all we’ve got right now.’ Mitchell exhaled, staring out across the brightly lit city. ‘Anyway, they’ll show. I know they will.’

  ‘This a female intuition thing?’

  She knew him well enough to take that remark in the spirit it was intended. ‘Anya already risked her life for this file; she’s come too far to back down now. It’s just a question of when she makes her play.’

  ‘And we’re the only thing standing in her way,’ he reminded her. ‘Can’t make up my mind if this is heroic or fucking stupid.’

  ‘Neither. You saw what happened in Norway.’ Mitchell unconsciously reached up and touched her temple, feeling the tight knot of pain and bruised skin that reminded her just how dangerous an adversary they’d pitted themselves against. ‘She could have killed us both without breaking a sweat, but instead she let us live. Why?’

  ‘Gunfire would have drawn the rest of our team in.’

  Mitchell shook her head. ‘Come on, Vince. Think. There are plenty of ways to kill people without firing a weapon. No, she spared our lives because we were no threat to her. That sound like the action of a crazed killer?’

  ‘How the hell would I know? Isn’t that the point of crazy people – they’re unpredictable?’

  For Mitchell, insanity didn’t factor into it for one second. In Anya, she saw a resourceful and capable operative pursuing a goal with ruthless determination, overcoming any obstacle that stood in her path and yet somehow still managing to show restraint and compassion.

  ‘She’s not crazy. I’d bet my life on that.’

  Suddenly Argento tensed up, moving his binoculars a few degrees to the right to focus on a new arrival approaching the building.

  ‘You might just have to,’ he said, all trace of humour vanishing from his voice now. ‘I think we’ve got some action here.’

  Abandoning her coffee, Mitchell jumped up and hurried over. She was by his side in seconds, her own binoculars quickly sighting the potential target.

  ‘Blue panel van approaching from the south-west. Looks like its slowing down,’ Argento reported.

  Sure enough, a delivery van was approaching, slowing down and pulling to a halt right in front of the main entrance. The passenger door opened and a lone figure jumped down onto the pavement.

  She was wearing the same uniform as the building security guards, but unlike the others Mitchell had seen come and go during shift changes, this one was definitely female. She could make out the lighter physique and the swell of breasts beneath the brown shirt, though her face was turned away and partially covered by a baseball cap.

  ‘You got a positive ID?’ she asked, wary of getting fired up over a false alarm.

  ‘Couldn’t tell for sure. I only saw her for a second, but she fits the description.’

  And then, just like that, the target turned her head, glancing at something on the other side of the street and at the same time revealed herself to Mitchell. Straight away she knew the face in her field glasses matched the one burned into her memory after their brief confrontation in Norway.

  ‘It’s her,’ Mitchell said, feeling her heartbeat soaring.

  ‘Son of a bitch,’ Argento breathed. ‘What’s she gonna do? Waltz right in through the front door?’

  She seemed to be doing just that, making straight the main entrance. As she did so, the van pulled away and turned into a service alley running down the side of the building, leading to the loading bay at the rear.

  ‘I’ll bet you twenty bucks Yates is onboard that van.’

  Mitchell said nothing, her face tight with concentration as she watched Anya stroll confidently up to the main entrance, reach into her pocket and swipe an access card through the reader next to the glass doors. There was a brief flash of green light, after which Anya typed in an access code of some kind, and that was it. The doors opened automatically, and with barely a glance over her shoulder she slipped inside.

  ‘I’ll be damned,’ she said under her breath, impressed by the woman’s audacity if nothing else. Where on earth had she obtained the card and code needed to get inside?

  ‘We’ve got them,’ Argento said, his voice rising with growing excitement. ‘One call to the cops and we’ve got them trapped in there.’

  ‘No,’ Mitchell said, lowering the binoculars. ‘We’re not calling anyone.’

  ‘Huh?’ Argento looked at her as if she were mad. ‘Why the hell not?’

  Her response was simple. Her reasons weren’t.

  ‘Because I want her to succeed.’

  Chapter 41

  The ISS building’s security room was little more than a small office with a locked reinforced door and a bank of digital monitors set along one wall, allowing the sole occupant to access any one of the two dozen CCTV cameras carefully placed around the facility. If no specific camera was selected, the monitors cycled through them at five-second intervals, the order constantly changing to prevent would-be intruders exploiting the pattern.

  To say that manning this room for an eight-hour night shift was a dull job would be a gross understatement. In the three years that Emre Sahin had been working night security here, there had been not a single break-in attempt; no suspicious activity, not even a couple of co-workers cau
ght fucking in the toilets. The most exciting thing he’d ever had to deal with was a pair of drunken foreigners arguing in the alley leading to the rear service entrance. That had been two years ago.

  Tonight however things were different. Burak Karga, the man who, according to the duty roster, was supposed to be on this shift with him, had failed to report in. He should have been here for changeover ten minutes ago, but there was no sign of him.

  Sahin was hardly a stickler for punctuality under normal circumstances, but the rules of their job strongly warned against having only one guard on duty at a time. The guards from the previous shift had offered to stay on until Karga arrived, but they all knew it had been a half-hearted gesture at best. Naturally he’d told them to be on their way, believing Karga would arrive at any moment and not wishing to inconvenience them.

  It had seemed like a sound and fair decision at the time, but as the minutes ticked by he became less and less confident. He was the supervisor – it was his job to get things like this right. If it was discovered that he’d knowingly breached this most fundamental regulation, he’d be in the shit.

  It took him another minute or so to make his decision.

  ‘Lazy bastard,’ he said, reaching for the phone to his left. He stabbed at the buttons, punching in Karga’s cell phone number, and waited impatiently while it rang out.

  And carried on ringing.

  ‘Come on, what the hell are you up to?’

  He knew Karga was a football fanatic, and that his favourite team had been playing a big match tonight. If the man was late and had turned off his phone just to watch a penalty shoot-out, they would be having words.

  Still the phone carried on ringing without response.

  Sahin slammed the phone down a little harder than necessary. He was just pondering whether or not to report the issue to his own boss when the internal buzzer sounded to inform him the main door had been opened. A glance at his computer terminal confirmed that Karga’s swipe card had just been used.

  Relief surged through him, though it was tempered with annoyance.

  ‘About time,’ he mumbled, rising from his chair. He fully intended to give his tardy co-worker as hard a time as possible for the stress he’d caused.

  The security room’s door buzzed once as Karga swiped himself in.

  ‘Burak, what time do you…?’

  Sahin’s words trailed off as he stared at the woman who had suddenly appeared in the doorway, armed with an automatic that was levelled at his head. A Western woman, tanned but clearly of Caucasian origin, with pale yellow hair and piercing blue eyes. She was dressed in the same uniform as himself, but it was clear that protecting the security of this place was the last thing on her mind.

  For a brief, ludicrous moment, instinct took over and he reached for the panic button fixed to the underside of his desk.

  ‘If you try it, you die,’ she warned, her pale blue eyes glinting with merciless resolve.

  Her stark warning was enough to cut through whatever thoughts of resistance he’d entertained, however brief. This job paid pretty well as far as it went, but nowhere near enough to lay down his life. Heart pounding and throat dry, he quickly backed away from the desk and raised his hands to show he was unarmed.

  ‘Lie down on the ground with your hands behind your head,’ she instructed.

  ‘Are you going to kill me?’ he asked, lowering himself to his knees.

  ‘I will certainly kill you if you don’t obey.’

  Having to fight a sudden urge to retch, Sahin lay down on the cold linoleum floor and placed his hands behind his head. He heard footsteps as she moved, and felt something narrow and plastic pulled tight around his wrists.

  Working with the quick efficiency born from long experience, Anya secured his wrists with plastic cable ties, followed by his ankles. A third loop of plastic bound both sets of limbs together behind his back, making it impossible for him to stand up or even move more than a few inches.

  Kneeling beside him, she holstered her weapon and looked into his eyes. They were dark and frightened, though to the man’s credit he wasn’t whimpering or pleading for his life. That was good.

  ‘Are there any other security guards in this building?’ she asked, speaking calmly now that he was no longer a threat. ‘If you lie to me, I will know.’

  ‘No. Just me.’ He wasn’t lying.

  ‘Any building employees? Anyone else scheduled to arrive tonight?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Good. I’m going to gag you now,’ she informed him. ‘Breathe normally and don’t struggle, and you will live through this. Nod if you understand.’

  He did.

  Unrolling a strip of duct tape, she fixed it to his face, sealing his mouth shut. It wasn’t unknown for people in such situations to panic and choke to death, or to suffer asthma or even heart attacks. For his sake, she hoped he wasn’t the panicking kind.

  With the guard taken care of, Anya turned her attention to the bank of monitors. They seemed to be cycling through various sections of the building, and in at least one of them she spotted a dimly lit room filled with rows of black computer cabinets, each illuminated by a few minimal indicator lights.

  The server room.

  Another camera was focussed on the courtyard at the rear of the building. As planned, Halvorsen was waiting patiently in a blue panel van near the loading bay, the exhaust venting small clouds of steam into the night air.

  Beneath the monitors was a simple computer terminal governing electronic door locks throughout the building. Scrolling through the options until she found the loading-bay doors, she hit the button to open them.

  *

  Up on the rooftop nearby, Argento stared at his colleague in disbelief. ‘Run that by me again?’

  ‘Come on, use your head. This whole investigation felt dirty the minute Hawkins showed up, and it’s been getting worse ever since. A guy with no official record, no past, who doesn’t belong to any recognised directorate but has unlimited access to Agency resources? That’s a heavy dose of bullshit right there.’

  ‘Hey, I don’t like the guy any more than you do, but who’s to say Yates and his new best friend are any better?’ Argento challenged her. ‘For all we know, they could be fucking terrorists.’

  Mitchell shook her head. ‘This isn’t about terrorism, for Christ’s sake. This is a cover-up. Hawkins wasn’t sent to arrest Yates or Anya, he’s out to protect whatever secrets they’re trying to uncover, and he’s willing to kill anyone who gets in the way. Even innocent civilians. That sound like the kind of people you want to work with?’

  Argento clenched his jaw. He didn’t like what she was saying, but nor could he dispute it. ‘So why come here, Olivia? Why even bother to make the trip if you’re not out to stop them?’

  ‘Like I said, I want them to succeed. And I want to know what’s on that file. If I’ve allowed myself to be part of a cover-up, I want to know why.’ She laid the binoculars aside and rose to her feet. ‘That van parked round back is our ticket in.’

  Before Argento could reply, however, another voice cut into their conversation. A voice that Mitchell had come to know all too well.

  ‘Thanks for the advice.’

  Startled, Mitchell whirled around, instinct prompting her to reach for the sidearm concealed within her jacket.

  ‘Don’t,’ Hawkins warned, raising the barrel of his silenced M4A1 assault rifle to draw attention to the fearsome weapon. Capable of spitting out close to a thousand rounds a minute and with an effective range of over 500 yards, he could scarcely miss her if he opened fire now.

  Standing not fifteen yards away, he was dressed in full night-assault gear and body armour. Two other men flanking him were dressed and armed in similar fashion.

  He smiled, knowing he had her at his mercy. ‘Couldn’t have got here without you.’

  Mitchell closed her eyes and let out a slow breath, realizing now how foolish she’d been to come here. Hawkins’s sudden dismissal of her from
the investigation hadn’t been some whim born in the heat of the moment or the result of a festering rivalry. Sensing she might know more than she was letting on, he’d cut her loose and patiently watched while she carried on the investigation herself.

  And when the time was right, he’d closed his trap.

  Chapter 42

  Clutching the canvas satchel that held a laptop and various other cables and components he might need to complete his task, Alex swung the rear door of the panel van open.

  ‘Good luck,’ Halvorsen called out from the front seat.

  Alex glanced at the older man for a moment, saying nothing. Their success or failure rested on him now. His companions had played their part, but now it was up to him.

  Never in his life had he felt that responsibility more keenly.

  Jumping down from the rear of the vehicle, he slammed the door shut and gave it a slap with his hand to confirm that Halvorsen was good to go. The Norwegian wasted no time gunning the engine, easing the van out of the parking area and back down the alleyway to the main road beyond. It would have been easier for him to linger close to the building, but the danger of discovery was too great.

  Alone now, Alex hurried forward and ducked beneath the rolling metal shutters that had been raised about three feet off the ground, finding himself in a small loading dock of sorts. The floor was bare concrete, the light coming courtesy of several cheap fluorescent strips fixed to the ceiling. Boxes, filing cabinets, spare desks and chairs, and all the other paraphernalia that accumulates in a busy office building were stacked along both walls.

  Alex recognized this sort of area well enough, because there were plenty of rooms like it in his former workplace. It was the kind of back-room storage space where all the barely usable crap was dumped in the mistaken belief that it might come in handy one day.