The Shadow's Code

by Miles Goodson

  “Actually yes. Roger didn’t say exactly but he’s definitely got some news,” Bill said as he stood inspecting the first army officer they came across in the long hallway.

  Roger’s meetings were always boring. He would talk about a counterpart in Britain or Germany or Mexico and then he would talk about Interpol and the secret service. None of this would help and by the end of the meeting he would announce some political news that had little if any bearing on tracking down Lindon. James waited outside Roger’s office door. Roger was on an important call and wanted an empty office. Bill and Warren questioned James about who Roger was speaking to.

  “No idea but it’s Roger, he’s probably talking to a pizza boy but wants us to think he’s speaking to the president of Russia,” James said with a smile. All three men looked at each other and shared a chuckle. After the last few days no one bothered with small talk. They had all missed anything worth talking about.

  Roger opened his door. All four men sat and Roger spoke first.

  “OK, good news. I spoke to MI5 in London earlier today about Kioshi to see if they could do anything to help in identifying whether he was in the UK. They’re a pretty efficient bunch and he just called back.” James was struggling to contain an outburst as he had been the one to contact a counterpart in the UK’s intelligence service and he had been the one to ask for information on Kioshi. Roger sipped his coffee, not thinking to ask if anyone else would like one. James leaned back in his seat and swore in his head whilst biting his tongue.

  “Kioshi is in London. That’s a definite. He flew via Vancouver on a British Airways jet that landed three days ago. The facial recognition at the airport matched Kioshi. He traveled on a fake Canadian passport with the name Max Chung. MI5 are now scanning all of the London transport hubs to see if he pings up anywhere else.”

  “Well this is good news then. We know where he is,” Warren said in good spirits.

  Roger frowned. “Good? He’s in London! Somehow he knows Lindon’s there and for all we know he’s already slit his throat!” The room was quiet for a few seconds after Roger’s outburst. James tried to restore the peace but at the same time he wanted to set the record straight about Roger’s supposed contact with the British.

  “OK, well our next step should be to confirm Lindon is alive. Since I was the one to speak to MI5 earlier I will contact them again. Roger, you need to stay out of these communications. I’m surprised they spoke to a secretary!” Roger turned in his chair to face James. He could see in James’s eyes that he was looking for a fight and wouldn’t need much provocation.

  “You mean chief advisor to the president,” he said softly. James’s fury began to boil over. Bill decided to play peacemaker.

  “OK, well let’s talk about Lindon,” he said.

  Roger answered swiftly. “They’re already scanning for Lindon but they have nothing showing so far. No arrival at airports and so far no facial recognition or fingerprints,” Roger said. Bill pushed himself forward in his seat, but just as he opened his mouth to speak James jumped in.

  “Roger, who did you speak to at MI5?”

  “It’s not important,” Roger answered. Bill jumped in before an argument raged.

  “I think we should seriously consider the option of going to England instead of waiting here for Lindon to be captured and returned. The minute we have him we should be there. Kioshi could strike at any minute.” Roger and Warren nodded.

  “I think that might be a good idea, I will speak to the president,” Roger said in a positive tone.

  “Would I be able to go as well?” Warren asked.

  “You would have to,” Roger said. Warren had never been to England and although this wouldn’t be a vacation it was somewhere new away from his isolated room in the White House. Roger flashed his watch out from his sleeve.

  “Let me speak to the president about this. Can we reconvene here in say…two hours?” Everyone except James nodded. James left the office swearing under his breath. He turned to Bill.

  “Where does that guy get off?”

  Bill nodded. “Look, we all know he can be an asshole. You just gotta try your best to ignore him,” Bill said, trying his best to calm James.

  “He turned to me for help and dragged all of us into this crap. Now he wants to act like he’s running the show. He didn’t call MI5, I did. They wouldn’t share this sort of information with a secretary, no matter who he’s the secretary for!” James’s face had gone red and his pulse was racing.

  “Look, you and I along with Warren are gonna be the ones to catch Kioshi and pick up Lindon. Roger won’t be able to take credit for that. Whatever we do he is our guest. Remember that. Unless the president orders us to let Roger be in charge of this, which he won’t, then we’re running the show here,” Bill said, placing his hand on James’s shoulder. James nodded and his face began to return to its normal color.

  “I say whatever the president says we go to London. With or without Roger,” James said.

  “Exactly what I was thinking,” Bill answered with a smile.

  Kioshi waited in a decrepit old abandoned building that he had made his base in London. He sat staring forward, mesmerized. Now that he had identified Lindon he could eliminate him. Methodically he went over the plan in his head. He would do this until it was time to strike; no part of his plan could be compromised.

  A beep from his phone broke his concentration; the screen was flashing with a withheld number. It was his informant. He spoke quietly. The information advised how many steps behind him the American authorities were. They agreed the first of a very generous series of payments to several bank accounts in the British Virgin Islands and the contact said he would be in touch soon. Kioshi hung up and the corner of lips rose to a half smile.

  The contact had explained that Kioshi was already suspected of being involved in the deaths of the professor, Julie and the Navy SEAL. This would have worried Kioshi had it been a couple of weeks ago, but now he was so close to the end of his mission he didn’t care. Now he knew the location of Lindon and that the Americans were so far behind him he was beginning to feel brazen. Kioshi had a lingering desire to go back to the house he had seen Lindon in and just shoot the front door off its hinges and kill everyone he came across, but he knew that would be foolish and too risky.

  When Kioshi had killed the SEAL during a gunfight it had been incredibly difficult, and costly. He had taken six of his own men, and paid a very large fee to the local terrorist organization leaders who knew they would suffer heavy losses against the brute force of the Seals. Kioshi insisted they send good men, not just suicidal radicals. He paid over $450,000 to secure the best. Kioshi had lost his entire team in the gunfight and 170 men from the local terror groups were killed, but it got the job done. They had teased out the man they wanted and managed to eliminate him. Tonight would be Lindon’s turn.

  Kioshi had noticed a woman standing behind Lindon, he planned to kill her as well so she could not compromise any part of Kioshi’s plan. The oil prince was of no real consequence. If he stayed asleep and didn’t intervene then Kioshi would leave him alone. If he woke up and got in the way then Kioshi would shoot him dead. Nothing could be left to chance.

  At 6pm Kioshi packed his bag full of weapons, tools, protection and supplies. If all went to plan he would be aboard a private jet just after midnight. Kioshi dressed and took one last look at his hotel room. It was happening, his dream of justice was about to become a reality.

  He got into his rented Mercedes and drove toward his target. He planned to park nearby and watch the house. Once he could confirm that Lindon was there he would strike.

  Roger walked out of the Oval Office after snatching a few moments with the president between meetings. He called Warren, James and Bill and told them to get to his office straight away. Once they arrived he spared no time in telling them the news.

  “The president has given us the go ahead. We’re going to London. The president is going to call in a favor from the prime m
inister to provide any assistance we need on the ground.” Bill and James sat in silence. They could have got all the assistance they needed without having to call in political favors.

  “When do we go?” Warren asked.

  “Four hours. Bill, we are going from an airfield under the command of your base. I’ll let you handle the details,” Roger said, assuming command once again much to Bill and James’s irritation.

  “OK, will speak to my guys at the base,” Bill answered.

  James and Warren remained silent and within two minutes the meeting was done. They were going to London.

  Chapter 22

  The oil prince’s timetable for the day was packed. Two lunches were booked. The prince was then to meet another friend at a rooftop cocktail bar wearing a tailored suit he had picked up that morning from Savile Row. By 6pm Lindon had become bored and Rena was out of new things to talk about. The plan for the evening was to go to the Bentley dealership and then back home for the prince to change clothes. Then the prince was going straight back into central London to an upmarket restaurant for dinner with two other princes who were staying at the Ritz for the evening before continuing their journey on to New York. The Bentley dealer closed at 6pm but a salesman and his manager were staying behind for the prince. He nearly always made a purchase when he was there. Lindon and Rena sat together in the G-Wagon outside the Bentley dealer. The prince said he was happy to go into the dealership alone but wanted them to keep a watch on him from outside. He had narrowed his eyes as he made his commands, as if they would slack off the second they were out of his sight. After forty minutes the prince left the dealership with the receipt for a new car and smiles and handshakes from the salesman.

  They arrived back at the prince’s home at exactly 7.10pm. Lindon didn’t know that as they rushed around inside the house they were being watched from afar. Kioshi was sitting in his car waiting to pounce. The prince wanted to be at the restaurant by 8pm. Rena advised him they should leave in twenty minutes at the latest and the prince agreed. At 7.30pm they set off for central London. The entire time Kioshi was waiting and watching. No one had noticed him.

  Rena looked out of the window of the car at the people of London. They were shopping and rushing from place to place. Rena broke the silence of the car by asking Lindon his plans after the job was done.

  “Well, I’ve got my next job here and then I think I’m going to disappear for a while.” His mind was fixated by the messages on his phone.

  “Two jobs in a row. Burning the candle at both ends,” she said with a sharp smile. Lindon didn’t answer.

  The French restaurant had a long thin gentlemen waiting outside in a tightly fitted suit. He opened the door for the prince and wiggled his pencil thin moustache at a waiter who rushed to escort the prince to his table. Rena walked with the prince to his table. She scanned the room, then walked back outside. Lindon waited in the car and watched the street.

  “Everything OK?” Lindon asked.

  “Yeah, nothing but a few rich old guys and a young couple on a date, you?” she replied.

  “Yeah, looks fine.” Lindon got out of the car and they walked to the restaurant door. The thin Frenchmen looked Lindon up and down and then opened the door halfway. His moustache stayed still.

  “You must be the entourage,” he quipped.

  “Table in the corner,” Lindon replied.

  The pair were sat at a small table in the corner and sipped water with a close eye on the prince. They sat in silence until Rena decided to continue her earlier attempt at a conversation.

  “I’m off to Australia next. Short job. I think I will stay there for a little while though. It’s thirty degrees every day right now,” Rena said with a smile. It was the opposite of Lindon’s plans. Heading to Sweden to try and see Stephanie would mean thick snow and minus temperatures.

  “Looks like we’re both burning the candle at both ends,” Lindon said with a smile, then shifted the conversation and began to talk about his concerns for their work. Rena smiled. She agreed with Lindon that working as a tradesman was becoming more and more risky. Good work with good companies was becoming harder to find. As they spoke they stayed alert, constantly scanning the people. Rena was facing the table with the prince. The green in her eyes was picked out by the candle on the table. Like two emerald pearls they glimmered between her black eyeliner.

  A couple of hours passed uneventfully. The prince looked at his watch. It was now 10pm. He raised his hand and immediately got the attention of his waiter who rushed over as if his life depended on it. Rena and Lindon jumped up. Lindon headed for the prince and Rena strutted to the car. She got into the driver’s seat of the G-wagon whilst Lindon walked with the prince.

  “We’re going to a Shisha bar, but I don’t plan on staying long,” the prince said to Lindon. It was a departure from their original plan. The prince had previously said he wanted to be home by 10.30pm so he was rested for his early morning flight.

  “No problem. Do you know the address?” Lindon asked.

  “No. We’re going to follow the yellow Ferrari my friends are in.”

  Lindon frowned and then nodded. A yellow Ferrari was illegally parked outside the restaurant. It sparkled from a fresh detail, the prince’s friend revved the engine several times all the way to the red line to attract the attention of some of the young women out enjoying the evening in the cold London weather.

  “We wouldn’t usually just follow somebody, are you-“

  The prince cut Lindon off as he tried to voice his concern. “It will be fine. Let’s go!”

  Lindon walked to the G-Wagon. He was deep in thought and his face conveyed his concern. Rena questioned the plans but wasn’t as concerned as Lindon. Rena shadowed the rich and famous more than Lindon and had got used to owners changing plans at the last minute. Even so Lindon didn’t like it. The Ferrari launched ahead and the Bentley lurched from a standstill to attempt to keep up. The G-Wagon’s engine burbled and reverberated off the buildings either side, creating an echo of exhaust noise. Lindon would usually love the sound of tire squeal and roaring engines but he was too concerned about where they were going and the prince’s friend’s reckless driving.

  Four hours later the Prince was still in the Shisha bar. It was very low rent compared to the places he had been visiting. Sparse decoration and bare walls were barely visible because of the poor lighting. The customers looked more and more questionable the later the night wore on.

  Parked at the prince’s home, Kioshi was becoming annoyed. It was 3am and no one had returned. Kioshi left at 5am as a few residents were leaving for work. He was frustrated but managed to keep himself calm. He would return tomorrow night and finish the job.

  At 7am local time a USAF plane was on final approach to RAF Lakenheath in West Suffolk, England. The airbase was shared between the Royal Air Force and the United States Air Force. Warren, James and Bill followed Roger off the plane once it had landed; Roger was the only one of the four that had been to the base before. Warren and James had not visited England before but Bill had been there several times on Army operations and a few Air force missions in the Middle East.

  “Good morning gents, I’m Corporal Hutchington, I trust you had a good flight,” said a man at the bottom of the stairs. The corporal shook hands with all the men. He was in his late 30s, was fair colored and had a long moustache that curled at the ends with a few ginger hairs creeping through. Warren, Bill and James were tired and deflated but Roger was as alert as ever after only having slept for four hours.

  “Yes, good flight thank you Corporal,” Roger responded.

  They headed to a waiting Range Rover that would usually be reserved for distinguished guests. There were pods attached to the leading edges of the bonnet for a national flag however the president had insisted that the four men look as discreet as possible so the American flags were absent.

  By 9.30am they had reached the center of London and were stuck in a traffic jam full of black cabs and red buses all
jostling for every inch of road. MI5 had several floors of offices in a tower block near Hyde Park. It would be the team’s new home. They would work and sleep on the twelfth floor of the Devan building for the next two days. Roger looked up out of the car window. He was amazed at how many cameras littered the streets.

  “London is the most watched city in the world,” James said to Roger who nodded in response. Around 420,000 CCTV cameras watched over the city. Warren was sure that most of them were in and around the Devan building as it was littered with cameras at every angle. The outside was grey with no exceptional features but a closer look by a trained eye revealed the thick triple layers of glass, rooftop guard and bomb proof doors. Every camera looked menacing as it glared down at the streets below. Like small black spheres that an oracle would use to decide the fate of the condemned.

  “OK, shall we take twenty minutes to stretch our legs and phone home?” Roger spoke with a false authority that didn’t cut much of an impression on the jetlagged men in front of him.

  “Yeah, do you know if they have provided breakfast?” Bill said.

  “Yes, the driver said the building is catered twenty-four hours a day,” Warren answered.

  “I don’t remember him saying that,” Bill said.

  “You were asleep and drooling on yourself at the time,” James announced in a much louder voice.

  The four men stayed in the lobby area for the next twenty minutes, sending messages on their phones and pacing until the time was up. The men then stood together and headed for the lift. Bill stood at the back of lift and tried to cover his groaning stomach noises with coughs. No one spoke until they had got out of the lift on the eleventh floor. To reach the twelfth floor you were forced to walk up bare concrete stairs. Roger knocked on a reinforced door at the top of the stairs. A few seconds passed and then the door opened slowly. Two heavily armed men with bulging biceps and bulletproof vests grunted “names”. Roger and the team all stood slightly shocked about the amount of weaponry the guards were carrying. One had raised his assault rifle a third of the way from the ground. Roger half raised his hands as he spoke.