The Berlin Conspiracy (The Division Book 4)

by Angus McLean

  She clicked the receiver back into place and took a slow sip, watching him over the rim of her glass.

  ‘I hope you’re not one of these guys who are only in this game for the image,’ she told him. ‘All mouth, no action.’

  Archer lowered his glass and looked at her. ‘Oh no,’ he said, ‘not at all.’ He ran his eyes from her ankles to her face, wanting her to know he was looking. The slinky gown was loose across her chest but he could still see the swell of her breasts, her nipples pushing at the thin fabric. ‘I’m all about the action.’

  ‘Good.’ She smoothly re-crossed her legs, her gown slipping aside momentarily to reveal a glimpse of black panties. ‘I was hoping you’d say that.’

  ***

  The lights of the City of Angels were shut out by the heavy drapes, with only ambient light from the lounge giving Archer some visibility as he gently eased himself from the bed. Jessika remained still, naked and deeply asleep on her side, as he padded silently towards the door.

  He reached the lounge and scooped up his pants from the floor, recovering his iPhone and a small device similar to a compact USB stick. Double-checking to ensure his new friend was still asleep, Archer crouched beside her laptop bag and slid the computer out onto the floor. Opening it up, he used his body to shield the screen’s glow and hopefully not be seen from the bedroom.

  The USB device was a commercially available device which doubled as a keystroke logger and as spyware. It was the latest piece of kit apparently, and Archer had no idea of the technical side of its performance. He plugged it into one of the USB ports, depressed the button at the end of the device, and waited while a tiny LED flickered red on the device.

  The laptop was ready, waiting for a password to be entered. It had been locked but not shut down, which made it almost child’s play to crack into. That didn’t do his nerves much good though. Jessika was still a CIA intelligence officer, and they were right up there in the pecking order. Getting caught cracking into her computer would do the SIS no favours with their Five Eyes partners, and there was no doubt the Yanks in particular would be less than forgiving to him personally. A robust interrogation would be the least of his concerns.

  It seemed to take an age for the USB’s light to go green, and as soon as it did he jumped into the apps on his iPhone. The two devices connected wirelessly, and the installation began.

  When Ingoe had given him the device earlier he’d stated, somewhat doubtfully, that it was supposed to only take a minute or less for the installation to take place. Archer was pleased to see he was right. It would leave no trace on the laptop for anything less than a full forensic examination.

  He quickly unplugged the USB, closed the laptop again and re-secured it in the bag. There was still no sound from the bedroom, so he pushed on and took another couple of minutes to photograph the papers Jessika had in the bag.

  He didn’t bother reading them for now – they could’ve been top secret plans or letters to her mother, he didn’t care – but got them all snapped and tucked away again before he put his iPhone back where it had come from. The USB stick he slipped beneath the cushion of one of the armchairs, giving it some degree of separation from himself. As long as he remembered to grab it before he left, he’d be fine.

  There was always the chance that she would do the same to him, but he didn’t plan on giving her the opportunity. He’d barely slept since he’d been in her room, due firstly to the vigorous lovemaking, and secondly because he was waiting for Jessika to slip into a deep sleep.

  He ducked into the bathroom and flushed the toilet to cover his tracks. She stirred as he climbed back into bed, and rolled onto her back.

  Archer lifted the covers and slid over to her, touching her belly and pulling himself close against her. She gave a low chuckle and slipped an arm around his shoulders. Their lips met in the darkness and their mouths came alive. He rolled on top of her, feeling her legs open beneath him without protest.

  ‘Mmm,’ she breathed, ‘back for more?’

  Archer moved his mouth to her nipples, flicking first one then the other with his tongue. She moaned in his ear and clutched his head to her.

  ‘The night’s not over yet,’ he whispered, finding her mouth with his. Their tongues met as he entered her, and the dance began again.

  Dawn was creeping over the horizon when he finally dressed himself and gave her a farewell kiss. She stayed where she was, sleepily satisfied and dishevelled. She smiled and waggled her fingers at him as he paused in the doorway.

  ‘Here’s to international relations,’ she chuckled. ‘But this stays strictly between us, right? I’m not that kinda girl, Craig.’

  It was the first time she had used his Christian name, and she pronounced it Creg, as Americans always seemed to.

  ‘I wouldn’t want stories floating around about me, you get my drift?’ she said.

  ‘Of course. And I’m not that kinda guy.’ He grinned and blew her a kiss. ‘See you around.’

  He turned and left, letting himself out quietly. The USB was safely back in his pocket and he was satisfied he’d left no trace of his spyware mission behind.

  He took a breath and rolled his shoulders as he headed down the corridor. The sex had been a welcome sideshow, he couldn’t deny that, but the primary task had been completed.

  He allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. For Queen and country; job done.

  Chapter 6

  ‘Pack your bags, you’re going to Germany.’

  Venice beach was as good a place as any for a private conversation, and Archer and Ingoe had thrown in enough counter-surveillance measures to be reasonably sure they were safe to talk – at least for a little while.

  They stood facing the ocean with the crash of the waves and their body positioning giving sufficient cover to help drown out their talk. No doubt the team who had followed their cab from the hotel to the beach had high-tech listening gear, so there was only so much they could do to stop the eavesdropping.

  ‘When?’

  ‘As soon as.’ Ingoe’s eyes were shielded by mirrored aviators. His face was expressionless. ‘The chatter that GCSB are getting is that a major player has taken a private plane to Berlin. Not sure on where or exactly when, but it’s all new chatter, so presumably it’s current.’

  Archer nodded. He had been shopping that morning, hitting a strip mall and spending the Government’s cash on some necessities. The new LA Dodgers baseball cap shielded his face from the sun and he had the peak pulled down low over his equally-new Oakleys.

  ‘I take it our friends here don’t know?’

  ‘No. You’re going via London. You have some business to take care of there, as far as they’re aware.’

  ‘Any ID on this major player?’

  ‘No.’ Ingoe glanced at him sideways. ‘You know as much as I do for now.’ He cracked a small grin. ‘Well, mostly.’

  Archer nodded again and smiled as well. ‘No doubt I’ll know more when I need to.’

  ‘You will.’ Ingoe gave a short nod. His mirrored lenses followed a pair of leggy girls in their early twenties as they tracked down to the surf, their bodies lean and tanned in their minimalist bikinis. One blonde, one brunette. They were smiling and laughing, the light breeze flicking their hair.

  ‘The American dream,’ Archer muttered aloud.

  ‘I thought that was to own your own home, drive a Detroit motor and eat oranges,’ Ingoe commented.

  Archer looked at him. ‘Maybe I’m wrong then. I thought it was to hang out at Venice Beach and nail hot chicks.’

  Ingoe’s lips twitched into a wry smile. ‘The sooner you get on a big bird, the safer the community of LA will be,’ he said.

  ***

  The flight from Los Angeles to London was ten and a half hours, and unlike his last flight, Archer spent most of the time asleep.

  He had been lucky enough to land a spot in Business Premier again, and had quickly made himself comfortable, making the most of a movie and a bourbon to switch
his mind off until after he’d eaten. As soon as dinner was finished he got his head down and slept solidly until they were an hour out from Heathrow.

  They landed on time at 11:30am, but by the time he’d collected his bag and got through the queue at Customs, it was close to an hour later.

  Archer made his way out into the arrivals hall at Terminal 4, ducking into a public toilet long enough to remove the tags from his luggage, tear them into pieces and flush them. The less trace of his movements the better. As far as the Americans were concerned he was going to London. They didn’t need to know he was continuing on from there.

  He stopped at an ATM to get some cash then queued again, grabbed a taxi and headed to Terminal 5. As far as he could tell there were no watchers but he expected there to be eyes on him from somewhere. He was known to the British intelligence services and they were all over Heathrow. Whether the Americans had a team on the ground to track him was anyone’s guess.

  Terminal 5 was busy but he put in some anti-surveillance drills anyway, just in case someone was sloppy enough to get spotted. It gave him the opportunity to grab a large coffee and a baguette to keep the engine running, and to pick up a paperback from the bookshop to help kill some time. After half an hour he checked in at the British Airways desk and was directed through to the departure lounge. Customs and Immigration paid him no mind and he was soon sitting in a corner away from any other travellers, starting his new Michael Connelly.

  He glanced up as a woman approached with a smile. He smiled back and she slid into the seat beside him.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Archer,’ she said.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mrs O’Loughlin.’

  Sarah O’Loughlin was an MI5 officer he had met through The Division’s previous resident agent in London. Moore had always spoken very highly of her and Archer had wondered whether they had something going. He knew she had been gutted when he suddenly disappeared and went off the grid last year following a particularly difficult assignment in Turkey.

  She was mid-forties and attractive in a motherly type of way, with short dark hair and hazel eyes. She wore a black puffer jacket over jeans and ankle boots, and had a daypack over her shoulder.

  ‘Berlin will be nice this time of year,’ she remarked, crossing her legs and turning side-on to him. ‘Not too hot, not too many tourists.’

  Archer smiled. ‘This isn’t just a courtesy call then?’

  ‘While you were winging your way here, your boss was on the phone to my boss,’ she said. ‘My understanding is you knew your friend’s private plane was in Berlin, but nothing further?’

  Archer gave a short nod. ‘That’s right. It was a bit of a speccy recce.’

  She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

  ‘Speculative reconnaissance,’ he explained.

  ‘I know what it means, Craig,’ she replied sarcastically. ‘I’ve just never heard an adult talk like Doctor Seuss before.’

  He felt his cheeks colour and she smiled cheekily at him.

  ‘I’m just taking the piss, calm down. A bit of work has been done in the meantime.’ She raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. ‘Do you understand how the geeks work?’

  ‘No,’ he replied truthfully. He’d never had any interest in the workings of the UK’s GCHQ or their own GCSB; he just knew they were very good at what they did. Much like they had no clue how to field-strip an MP5 in the dark, he didn’t need to know how they did their job.

  ‘Neither do I. But they’ve ID’d a private plane that has just landed in Germany, coming via Morocco. Looks like it originated in Jamaica.’

  Archer nodded. That tied in with what Ingoe had told him. ‘Whose is it?’

  ‘We don’t know. Leased by a corporation based in the Caymans. We’re trying to ID who’s behind the company, but you know what these places are like. The point is, it fits the picture we’re building so far, so it’s worth looking at.’

  Sarah paused as a harassed-looking couple with a pair of sulky teenagers in tow shuffled within hearing, the woman clutching a handful of passports and boarding passes, the husband wrestling with matching trolley bags. Both kids had their ears in and scowled at the world. The boy looked at Sarah and ran his eyes over her, a sneer crossing his face. His eyes moved to Archer and the sneer quickly melted under the stare he received. He grunted something unintelligible at his mother who looked perplexed. The boy grunted again, louder this time, and the father looked frustrated. The girl snuck a glance at Archer. He looked away.

  The mother said something to the father who frowned and wrestled the bags back around before dutifully following the rest of his family to another block of seats. The boy flopped down and scowled across the gap at Archer.

  Archer ignored him and turned back to Sarah, who had watched the interaction with amusement.

  ‘No kids,’ she stated, and he crooked a grin at her.

  ‘Good God, no. Could you imagine me as a father?’

  She cocked the eyebrow at him again. ‘You might surprise yourself, tough guy.’

  ‘Huh,’ he grunted, keen to move on. She took the hint.

  ‘The plane is currently at a private hangar at Berlin-Tegel. It hasn’t left since landing yesterday. You’ll get details from your outfit. Further to that, four passengers and two pilots were on board, according to German Immigration. All on US passports, but nobody that fits the profile of being a major player.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, at least nobody either we or the Germans have much on.’

  Archer frowned. ‘Are they sure?’

  Sarah gave him a look. ‘They’re German, Craig. Don’t question their efficiency.’

  He felt himself smile. ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘They have booked into a hotel in the city, but for how long, who knows. No flight plans are filed yet, but that could be done last-minute. Best idea is to get there and get into it.’

  He nodded. ‘Sounds about the extent of it.’

  ‘So I’ve booked us into a neighbouring hotel,’ Sarah finished.

  Archer did a double take. ‘I’m sorry, what? You’ve booked us in?’

  She grinned, enjoying his surprise. ‘That’s what I said. Your outfit has requested assistance from mine. Our friends over the river would normally do it, but they were happy for me to come aboard for this.’ She hiked her shoulders. ‘It should only be a couple of days at most, anyway.’

  Archer nodded again. He didn’t like surprises, but what she said made sense. Security Service officers were not normally despatched overseas, so the fact that MI6 were happy to take a pass on the job showed how seriously – or otherwise – they viewed it.

  ‘Don’t worry, love,’ Sarah smiled, patting his arm, ‘I won’t cramp your style. It’s still your show.’

  Archer smiled in spite of himself. ‘It’s not like that, Mrs O. I’d hate to slow you down.’

  She gave a slight frown. ‘You can leave the “Mrs” bit out now, too.’ She waggled her left hand at him, and only then did he notice the absence of rings. ‘We’ve gone our separate ways.’

  ‘Sorry to hear that.’ Archer hadn’t met her husband, but it was the best he could come up with on the spot. Sympathy had never been his strong point.

  She shrugged. ‘Hard to be married when you’re both at work all the bloody time,’ she said with some feeling.

  Archer was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, he chose his words carefully.

  ‘You know I don’t have a great track record with you guys, don’t you?’ he said, watching her face.

  ‘You mean the girl from Six?’

  ‘Tracy.’

  ‘Last I heard she was still alive and kicking.’

  He knew she was being generous. Tracy’s involvement in the joint op a couple of years ago had ended in Samoa, after she was tortured and nearly raped by a gang of thugs. Archer had sent her a Christmas card the first year, but hadn’t received one back. Fair enough, he figured. He hadn’t tried again.

  ‘Still in the Service?’ he enquired, and Sarah gave a non-committal s
hrug.

  ‘As far as I know.’

  He accepted that and moved on. No point dwelling on the past. ‘So what’s our cover then?’

  ‘Unmarried couple on a city break. Only recently together after my marriage break-up, first trip away together. We originally met a couple of years ago in London through work, stayed in touch, and began an affair last year when you were back in the UK.’

  He raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘we know you were. So we hooked up then, maintained a long distance online relationship, and now that you’re back over for a short time we’re giving it a crack to see how we like it.’ She gave a wan smile. ‘Chances are it’ll fizzle out and end in tears because you’re a cheating bastard, but I’m lonely and trying to get back in the game.’ She paused a moment before trying, and failing, to give a bright smile. ‘How does that sound?’

  Archer blinked. ‘Sounds kinda bad for you, getting stuck with a cheating bastard like me.’ He crooked a grin. ‘Not so bad for me, however…’

  Sarah broke into a proper grin now and slapped his arm. ‘Keep talking,’ she said.

  They got their heads together until the boarding call was made, thrashing out their cover story and testing each other on it. Sarah was clearly switched on, which gave Archer confidence; she was far more experienced in this world than he was. As they spoke he detected a sense of sadness about her. She was putting on a good front and seemed genuinely excited about the op – “a chance to get out of the office” as she put it – but he wondered about her emotional state.

  Fuck it, he decided, he couldn’t be concerned about that. Her issues were hers to deal with. She would just need to grip it and crack on.

  For now, they were as best prepared as they could be. He couldn’t get hold of Ingoe and presumed he was somewhere in the air, so he touched base briefly with the Duty Officer in Wellington to get a message passed instead.

  For the next few hours there was nothing to do but wait.

  Chapter 7